Task 2. Look for sample critique of three literary approaches of your choice.

Structuralist Criticism in "The Story of an Hour"

The subject of "A Story of an Hour" is the liberation of a repressed housewife in the
1800s. Analyzing the symbols and the language used by the author s the reader to this
conclusion.

Signs and Symbols:

"She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with
the new spring life."

The trees "aquiver with new life" are symbols that act as a contradiction to Louise Mallard's
husband's death. This line is arranged in the location where the main character is beginning to
come to terms with the sudden death. As Mrs. Mallard is gazing out the window, seeing the
new life around her, the realization of a new life begins to dawn on her. The signs and symbols
in this line are important in the development of the purpose of "The Story of an Hour."

"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."

Chopin shows the inner thoughts of the protagonist through her use of setting. "The patches of
blue sky" show that Mrs. Mallard is looking for the silver lining of this situation. She is getting
closer to her realization of herself, and the setting is helping her get there. The inclusion of this
description shows another stepping stone through the in medias res, towards the climax (her
actualization).

"There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. ...she felt it, creeping
out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air."

The chosen diction for this sentence shows Mrs. Mallard's fear and hesitancy towards the mix of
emotions she's experiencing ("fearfully," "creeping"). This sentence explicitly shows the
connection between her feelings and the settings, saying that the cheerful images and sensory
appeals from outside the Mallard's house house began to positively affect her. This "something"
that she was experiencing was her realization of liberation, and the author structures this
section and her whole piece to show how setting directly affects the epiphany of Mrs. Mallard.

The setting provides structure for the overall mood and theme of "The Story of an Hour." By
including these descriptions, Kate Chopin has given us an insight on the process Mrs. Mallard is
going through by her choice of setting and descriptions, which supports the plot line towards
the "feminist awakening" at its climax. Similar to "A Doll's House", this story follows a structure
where the main female character experiences liberation from a repressing marriage and a
function where repression in housewives is prominent.

Work Cited Page:

Bedford / St. Martin. “Critical Approaches.” virtualLit. Web. N.A. Web. 06 October 2014.
http://bcs.bedfordstmartins.com/virtualit/poetry/critical_define/crit_struct.html
Davis, Hank, Madison Dodson, and Jessi Thornton. "Structuralist Criticism." prezi.com. Web.
N.A. Web. 09 October 2014.
http://prezi.com/jfhiotmnws_h/structuralist-criticism/
Henderson, Greig E. and Christopher Brown. “Glossary of Literary Theory.” University of
Toronto English Library. Web. University of Toronto. Web. 06 October 2014.
http://www.library.utoronto.ca/utel/glossary/Structuralism.html
"Reading With An Eye On Deep Structure." mural.uv.es. Web. N.A. Web. 06 October 2014.
http://mural.uv.es/crises/Structuralism.html
An Archetypal Analysis of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

by Belinda A. Butler

The myth of the hero is one of the most prevalent myths in the world.  We find it in the
classical mythology of ancient Greece and Rome, legends of the Middle Ages, in the Far East,
and among contemporary primitive tribes (Henderson 110).  We also find it in one of our most
celebrated American Christmas stories:  Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.  Hero myths
throughout the world are extremely varied but all share some structural similarities.  Over and
over again one hears a tale describing a hero's extraordinary birth, his early proof of unusual
strength, his rapid rise to prominence, and his triumphant struggle with the forces of evil
(Henderson 110).  The essential function of the hero myth is to symbolize the development of
the individual's awareness and acceptance of his own strengths and weaknesses, in a manner
that will equip him for the arduous tasks with which life confronts him (Henderson 110).

    In the story of Rudolph, a young deer, born to one of Santa's main reindeer, meets the
requirements of an archetypal hero by being in one respect different from everyone else:  his
nose glows.  His unusual power is also exhibited in the running broad jump, when he jumps
farther than any other reindeer.  But despite efforts to hide his nose with clay, the other
reindeer soon discover that Rudolph is different and he is ostracized as a result:  "they never let
poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games" anymore.  

    So our hero runs away, signifying the retreat into oneself that must be initiated in order to
come to terms with one's uniqueness.  This retreat if often symbolized in mythology as a retreat
into the wilderness  - a wilderness in which one may confront the devil himself.  Rudolph soon
teams up with a disgruntled elf who does not want to work for Santa, but wants to be a dentist.
Like Rudolph, he has run away because he is different and "unacceptable".  

    In these two characters, we see the two sides of man's nature (Henderson 113).  One of
them, Rudolph, is acquiescent, mild, and without initiative.  The elf is dynamic and rebellious.  

    Another important characteristic of the hero myth lies in the balancing of the hero's early
weakness and immaturity by the appearance of strong "tutelary" figures or guardians, who
enable him to perform tasks that he cannot accomplish unaided (Henderson 110).  In the
Rudolph story, this guardian is Yukon Cornelius, the prospector, who time and again uses his
pick to rescue are hero from danger.  Guardian figures such as this are in fact symbolic
representatives of the whole psyche - the larger and more comprehensive identity that supplies
the strength that the personal ego lacks (Henderson 110).  

    Thus, we follow our hero with his elf friend and his guardian angel, as it were, Yukon
Cornelius, on his retreat away from a society that scorned him - into himself - where there lurks
an even greater danger:  evil itself, personified in the person of the Abominable Snowman.  In
a narrow escape from a disastrous confrontation with the snowman, Cornelius once again saves
Rudolph and his friend, and they find themselves on The Island of Misfit Toys.  In doing so,
they cross the great water, symbolic of a safe passage across the depths of the unconscious.
The island is populated by misfits like themselves:  toys that for one reason or other were
different and therefore scorned by a society in which being unique is a sin.

    Naturally, being misfits themselves, Rudolph and the elf want to stay on the island, and they
consult with its ruler, a lion king.  This is another important archetype, symbolic of our higher
consciousness, whose authority must go unchallenged.  The lion in all his wisdom denies them
residence, for the solution to their problem is not to run away from the world, but to accept
themselves.  Unlike toys, living things cannot run away, but must confront the realities of life.

    Thus, Rudolph's sojourn and expulsion from The Island of Lost Toys symbolizes the manner
in which the emerging ego overcomes the inertia of the unconscious mind and liberates the
mature man from a regressive longing to return to the blissful state of infancy (Henderson 118-
120).  Having been liberated, then, the final battle with the snowman - the "forces of evil"
within him - must inevitably take place.  The battle between the hero and the monster shows
clearly the archetypal theme of the ego's triumph over regressive trends.  For most people, the
dark or negative side of the personality remains unconscious.  The hero, on the other hand,
must realize that his "shadow" exists and that he can draw strength from it.  Thus the
abominable snowman represents the archetype of the shadow, or dark side of one's personality
with which one must confront to achieve maturity.  This claim if further strengthened by the
fact that the ultimate confrontation between Rudolph and the snowman takes place in a cave, a
symbol of the unconscious.  First, he must come to terms with its destructive powers if he is to
become sufficiently strong to master and assimilate this darker side, according to Jung.  And, in
fact, it is significant that the snowman is not killed by Rudolph, but merely tamed, and
assimilated into North Pole society to place stars on top of christmas trees for the rest of his
days.  

    Thus, we see that Rudolph's, or the ego's, rise to consciousness takes place as he is
welcomed with open arms back into his long lost home, among all his family and friends.  He
retreated, embarked on his journey, and with the help of Cornelius, confronted the darker side
of his personality and came to terms with himself.  In the same way that the childish ego frees
itself from the oppression of parental or societal expectations and becomes individual, so
Rudolph now took what was once a terrible defect and turned it into a wonderful gift.

     And Rudolph "with his nose so bright", led Santa's sleigh that night.
“A Good Man is Hard to Find”: A Marxist Critique

AN ARTICLE BY SALEMBOT

Through literary theory, art is given an opportunity to take on new meaning. Literary theory
challenges the critic to shed personal biases and presuppositions—a deliberate and artistic
practice of cultural relativism—while critically examining “‘the best that has been thought and
said in the world” through lenses that encourage profound interpretation, impart meaning,
inform context, and expand worldviews (Bertens 5). Viewing the same work through alternate
forms of literary theory can shed light on the values, patterns, structures, beliefs, and
assumptions of any given viewpoint (Bertens 1-2). Rather than taking a piece of art at face
value, literary theory encourages the interpreter to ask meaningful questions which uncover
historical, social, or cultural context; to search for underlying themes and elements which refer
to intentions or motivations in creating the work, whether unconscious or deliberate; and
examine structures and elements in the form of the work, lending deeper understanding to
what makes a piece of writing “literary”.

Literary theory and literary criticism are two different beasts, though on the surface, they can
sometimes be difficult to distinguish from one another. Literary criticism focuses on the study,
evaluation, and interpretation of literary works, generally with a focus on thematic elements,
narrative, and characterization. Literary theory urges the critic move beyond the basic building
blocks of writing and instead consider and interpret the nature, definition, and parameters of
literature; the sociopolitical, economical, and cultural influences that inform a work; and the
concrete form and structure of literary texts (Bertens 2-3). Where criticism often places the
most emphasis on discovering meaning, much of literary theory dismisses meaning as
ultimately arbitrary, and instead focuses on context. The nature of this context varies
depending on what discipline of literary theory is emphasized by the interpreter. It is also
pertinent to note that, like meaning, much of literary theory can also be considered as
subjective to the interpreter.

Flannery O’Connor remains a highly respected American writer, particularly within the short
story genre. Her work, typically categorized in the “Southern Gothic” style, often features
grotesque characters, graphic violence, and dark humor; her writing deals predominantly in
themes regarding religious salvation and societal alienation. In this paper, I intend to explore
one of O’Connor’s most famous works, “A Good Man is Hard to Find,” a short story concerning
the violent death of a vacationing family by the hands of a motely crew of social outcasts.
Through the lens of Marxist criticism, I intend to explore how both the protagonist (a middle-
class grandmother) and the antagonist (an exiled hillbilly) of the narrative are both merely
facets within the gem of O’Connor’s total worldview. The grandmother’s salvation at the time of
her death is often regarded as the most significant point of the narrative; through the Marxist
view, I will argue that O’Connor’s Misfit can be viewed as the most influential character of the
story.
The school of thought known today as Marxism began in the mid-19th century, to the credit of
German artist, writer, and philosopher Karl Marx and, to a lesser extent, his colleague, Frederic
Engels. Marxism came about in reaction to the oppressive and autocratic social and economic
standards that dominated Germany’s landscape during the Industrial Revolution (Bramann).
Political activism was often regarded as a criminal endeavor; despite the risks, after receiving
his doctorate, Marx “dedicated himself to the project of radically restructuring modern industrial
society along socialist and communist lines” (Bramann). Both Marx and Engels—who first
introduced Marx to the ideals of socialism and communism—became influential figures within a
massive, international labor movement (Bramann). Marx played a significant role in the
Revolution of 1848 as a newspaper editor; in the wake of the revolution’s defeat by the ruling
monarchists, Marx fled Germany. He spent his remaining years in London, dedicating his life’s
work to the study of economy, art, literature, nature, and science (Bramann). 

In the simplest terms, the tenets of Marxist criticism rely on the premise that our social being
influences our social consciousness. That is to say, the dominant hegemony—the economic
structure and subsequent social hierarchy—of any given historical period aggressively shapes an
individual’s personal worldviews (Eagleton 2). Additionally, residual and emergent hegemonies
also play a role in social consciousness during periods of radical social change, which Marx
argues are necessary for the evolution of society. The “economic base” of any given society
consists of the means of production (tools in various forms), commodities, technological
innovations, the ways we organize (such as the manager/subordinate relationship), and the
proletariat/bourgeoisie dynamic (Eagleton 2). The “ideological superstructure” includes what
Marxists would broadly refer to as our “consciousness,” meaning law, education, religion, art,
literature, media—the elements which comprise culture (Eagleton 2). Marxism argues that the
base largely informs the superstructure—our culture is defined by our market—though the
relationship can certainly be regarded as reciprocal in some respects.

This explanation in no way exhausts the vast scope of Marxist philosophy. For the purpose of
this critique, there is one particular tenant of Marxism that must be examined in further detail:
Marx’s Theory of Alienation. In a precapitalistic society, the laboring class held some measure of
autonomy: they made/forged/grew their own products, dictated their working conditions, set
their own hours, bartered and sold directly, and so on (Bramann). Under capitalist rule, workers
are alienated from their labor, with little or no influence over the means, process, product, and
relations of production (Bramann). Ultimately, Marx argues, this separation from work fosters
separation from our entire lives, as more and more of what the laboring class does is dictated
by forces other than our own will. Put succinctly, the depersonalization of mass production
works to estrange humans from their instinctively creative and productive nature. The Marxist
view necessitates the abolishment of capitalism in order for society to actualize human
autonomy.

In order to understand how Marx’s concept of alienation applies to O’Connor’s work, the
historical context of O’Connor’s life must be examined. After all, it is the overarching economical
constructs which, Marx argues, directly influence our culture, including literary work. O’Connor
wrote “A Good Man is Hard to Find” in 1953, at a time of massive industrial change in America.
Soldiers returned en masse to the labor force at the end of World War II; economic growth
soared; mass production boomed; suburbs sprawled; populations grew; television became the
dominant media force in American households (Beckman). Religious devotion, as well, saw an
unprecedented rise in the post-war era. Amongst the burgeoning suburbs, highways, and
shopping centers, couples were married, babies were christened, and religious—namely
Christian—worship became an unquestioned standard of middle-class life (Beckman).

O’Connor was an only child, born into a prominent and devoutly Roman Catholic family in
Savannah, Georgia. Writing was still considered an unorthodox profession for a woman in that
time; O’Connor’s university scholarship and post-graduation acceptance into the University of
Iowa Writers’ Workshop was a testament to her talent in this regard (Encyclopaedia Britannica).
O’Connor’s father died from complications of lupus when O’Connor was thirteen, and after being
awarded an MFA from University of Iowa, O’Connor’s inheritance of the same disease saw her
life relocated to a small farm in Milledgeville, Georgia (Encyclopaedia Britannica). O’Connor lived
modestly, continuing to write as she raised peafowl with her mother—and occasionally
travelling to lecture or speak at seminars—until her untimely death in 1964, at the age of 39
(Encyclopaedia Britannica). O’Connor never married, nor had children, which were particularly
stark social deviations for a young woman in the throes of the post-war baby boom.

Small farming was one of the few industries that saw massive decline in the post-war economic
boom. As the middle-class grew and demand for food production exponentially increased,
corporations began aggressively shaping agricultural consolidation throughout the United
States, leaving family farmers to either be bought out or try their best to compete against the
overwhelming forces of cheap, mass-produced livestock and crops (University of Groningen,
2012). This consolidation left many farmers displaced from an industry which traditionally was
passed down through generations; perhaps O’Connor perceived herself as alienated to some
extent from her true “creative” self because of the economic demands of her “laboring” self,
brought about by the loss of the typically-breadwinning patriarchal family figure. This is one of
many possible demonstrations of Marx’ alienation at work, similar to the social and economic
alienation so often featured in O’Connor’s writing, including “A Good Man is Hard to Find”. An
alternate viewpoint might be that O’Connor’s return to the farmstead was instead a fulfillment
of human autonomy; through separation from the ruling class, O’Connor had gained complete
freedom to dictate the means, conditions, relations, and products of her labor, both in her
writing and in her farming.

O’Connor’s educational success and literary accolades could not counteract the economic
depression she and her mother were pigeonholed into after her father’s death; it is likely their
small peafowl farm struggled to some extent, like most others, under the corporation
monopolization of farming practices. It does not seem out of the realm of possibility that
O’Connor expressed some measure of her social displacement through her writing: a
prestigious, devout, and yet socially rebellious woman, riddled with talent and illness alike; a
woman who came from a once-prominent family and who had achieved a high level of
education, eventually reduced to a bed-ridden, working-class farm life (Encyclopaedia
Britannica). In a Marxist examination of “A Good Man is Hard to Find,” the characterization of
both the grandmother and the Misfit would suggest two conflicting and alternating worldviews
that O’Connor attempted to reconcile through her craft.

O’Connor remained pious throughout the entirety of her life, her personal journals often
concerning themselves obsessively with channeling her Catholic religion through her writing
(O’Connor). Marx famously argued that religion was merely another man-made ideology
—“ideology” specifically in the Marxist sense, encompassing all the various elements which
inform our culture—dictated by the hegemonic forces of any given society, meant only to impart
a false sense of purpose and moral sanction in an increasingly purposeless regime: “Religious
suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against
real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and
the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people” (Marx). It is obvious from
O’Connor’s journals that she felt endlessly compelled to bring her faith to the forefront of her
life’s work, which suggests, at some level, there existed an internal struggle against her
religion. I believe this struggle is documented in the character of the Misfit, as well as in the
other violent, grotesque, cynical, and faithless characters featured in her body of work.

The character of the grandmother deals predominantly with issues of social affirmation, wealth,
and status; these would suggest concerns of the bourgeoisie, or the ruling class. For example,
the grandmother disparages the casual dress of her son’s wife, opting to clad herself in stately
attire for a long road trip to Florida: “In case of an accident, anyone seeing her dead on the
highway would know at once that she was a lady” (O’Connor). Even at the thought of her own
fragile mortality, the grandmother is entirely concerned with keeping up appearances of social
hierarchy. Though putting forth all the surface appeal of a “good Christian woman,” the
grandmother is generally selfish, vapid, and petulant in her actions and dialogue; she lies,
panders, and has little regard for anyone but herself (Leonard 52). Even as her entire family is
systemically murdered before her, the grandmother continues to plea with the Misfit only for
her own life: “You wouldn’t shoot a lady, would you?” (O’Connor). O’Connor’s subversive
criticism of American religious culture through the grandmother character suggests a certain
level of dissatisfaction with the generally shallow religious discipline of the middle-class;
perhaps, particularly when viewed in conjunction with the content of her personal journals, it
also suggests a dissatisfaction in the depth of her own faith: “Oh God please make my mind
clear. Please make it clean. I ask You for a greater love for my holy Mother and I ask her for a
greater love for You. Please help me to get down under things and find where You are”
(O’Connor).

The grandmother’s supposed salvation comes moments before she is shot dead by the Misfit;
after a moment of religious doubt (“Maybe He didn’t raise the dead”) the grandmother is
possessed by the spirit of Christ (O’Connor). In a stereotypically Catholic “moment of grace,”
she recognizes the Misfit as simply another child of her god, and thus by her possession, a child
of her own: “Why you’re one of my babies. You’re one of my own children!” (O’Connor). The
grandmother attempts to usher the fervor of her faith—perhaps literally, perhaps figuratively—
upon the Misfit, who “sprang back as if a snake had bitten him and shot her three times
through the chest” (O’Connor). O’Connor spent much of her time defending this violent end to
critics and readers alike, arguing that the murder of the grandmother was necessary to her
spiritual realization: “The devil accomplishes a great deal of groundwork that seems to be
necessary before grace is effective” (Leonard 52). The grandmother’s last pious exclamations
and her contented post-mortem expression both offer religious affirmation and reinforcement of
hegemonically-dictated roles: she finds joy in death in the recognition of her “child,” affirming
her matriarchal status; she achieves deliverance from the mortal realm by the hands of a male
(the Misfit) into the hands of a male (God), affirming patriarchal positions of power.
In stark contrast to the character of the grandmother, the Misfit is not in any way concerned
with appearances or adherence to social norms, starting with deviations as minor as appearing
to the family without a shirt on, ending with the mass-murder of the group under little to no
pretense (O’Connor). Where the grandmother has wholly conceded herself to the dominant
hegemony of 1950s America, the Misfit lives beyond it: working when, where, and how he
pleases; living as a nomad; rejecting religion for his own moral code; learning independently;
collaborating only with those he chooses; and yes, even murdering, the starkest of social
deviations. The grandmother, in comparison, adheres to appearances; places upmost value on
wealth and status; clings to superficial religious ideals without explicitly practicing them; and is
hopelessly self-centered (Leonard 52-3). The Misfit recognizes the grandmother’s supposed
spiritual awakening for what it is: “only the illusory Sun which revolves around man as long as
he does not revolve around himself” (Marx). The Misfit vehemently rejects the grandmother’s
imposed salvation upon him, recognizing that her personal ideals only materialized in the
ultimately selfish moment of her demise: “’She would of been a good woman,’ The Misfit said,
‘if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life’” (O’Connor).

The alienation of the Misfit in the narrative is different than alienation in the Marxist sense;
however, I argue that O’Connor’s own (Marxist) alienation from her true “creative” self—
through labor, through patriarchal rule, through illness—spurs the need to endlessly negotiate
these barriers in the body of her work. I also argue that, through a Marxist lens, it is the Misfit
who serves as the grotesque antihero of the narrative; a man who has achieved as much
human autonomy as can be afforded under a ruling capitalist regime. The grandmother and her
family have bowed under the weight of the dominant hegemony, and the end result is death;
the protagonist is ultimately afforded nothing more than her precious “opium,” while the Misfit
continues on with life as he sees fit. In a microscopic example of the societal cycle Marx
predicts, the governing class is overthrown by the revolutionists. The Misfit holds no false
preconceptions about the man he is, and makes little in the way of moral judgments for what
he does; he allows himself simply to exist, and to exist in ultimate freedom, living closer to
Marx’s ideal of “true self” than any other character of the narrative. O’Connor’s endless flirtation
with the binaries of faithlessness/salvation, inclusion/alienation, and domination/subordination
could all be considered as reflections of an internal struggle against her “true” self and the
imposed societal standards and structures of post-war, capitalist America.

Works Cited

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Bramann, Jorn K. Educating Rita and Other Philosophical Movies. Nightsun Books, 2009,
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Eagleton, Terry. Marxism and Literary Criticism. Taylor & Francis Group, 2014, ProQuest Ebook
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Encyclopaedia Britannica. “Flannery O’Connor”. Encyclopaedia Britannica Online, 2019, retrieved

from britannica.com/biography/Flannery-OConnor
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O’Connor, Flannery. “My Dear God”. New Yorker, 2013, retrieved from

newyorker.com/magazine/2013/09/16/my-dear-god

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