Murti Ayu Wijayanti, M.Pd.

Eri Rahmawati, M.A

INTRODUCTION
TO LITERATURE MODULE

i
 INTRODUCTION TO LITERATURE MODULE
© Murti Ayu Wijayanti, M.Pd. dan Eri Rahmawati, M.A.

All right reserved

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Dilarang memperbanyak sebagian atau seluruh isi buku ini
tanpa izin tertulis dan penulis/penerbit.

Cetakan Pertama:
Mei 2016

Editor:
Arip Senjaya

Desain Sampul & Tata Letak:

Desma Yuliadi Saputra

Introduction to Literature/
Wijayanti, Murti Ayu dan Eri Rahmawati
Untirta Press
vi+68 hlm.: 16 x 24 cm

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ISBN 978-602-1013-56-4

ii
 PREFACE

The writers would like to thank Allah, God the Almighty, who
always gives blessing so that the writers are able to arrange this book.
This hand out is a material for English students which focused on
the introduction to English literature and the development. It is one
of the writers’ efforts to provide the students with adequate material
in order they can have sufficient knowledge about English literature
and how to appreciate English literary works.
The writers wish to express their best gratitude to colleagues and
students with whom they are working during their teaching.

Serang, February 2016

Arrangers

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iv
 Table of Content

Preface iii
Table of Content v

Chapter I
What is Literature 1
Chapter II
History of English Literature at a Glance 7
Chapter III
Literature around Us 17
Chapter IV
Qualities of Literature 23
Chapter V
Poetry 33
Chapter VI
Prose Fiction 41
Chapter VII
Drama 55

References 67

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vi
 CHAPTER I
WHAT IS LITERATURE

1.1 DEFINITION OF LITERATURE

It is not easy to define what literature is. Many people try to give
the definition and discuss about it. However, no satisfying definition
comes up so far. When one definition is made, there are many
questions following.
Let’s start with definition made by Paul Valery (Koesnosoebroto,
1988: 1): “Literature is, and cannot be anything but a kind of
extension and application of certain properties of language.” We find
that he relates literature with language. It means that every literary art
comes from verbal work or language.
Then, let’s see two kinds of definition made by Rees (Haryanti,
2004: 3): Literature in the broad sense and in the narrow sense. In the
broad sense means anything written, e.g. brochure, grocery list, time
tables, textbooks, and so on. While literature in the narrow sense means
anything that is written which expresses ideas, emotions, feelings, and
attitudes toward life.
To make those two Rees’ definition clear, compare the two
following texts:

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Text 1
The weather in England is quite changeable and rarely predictable. In
summer, it is not usually very hot. The temperature in July and August
ranges from about 20oC to 28oC but it often rains. Sometimes, it is very
sunny in May, but then gets worse in summer. In September, the days are
very often fine and warm. By October, the weather starts to get colder.
From November to April, it is very cold. Winters vary. Some years, it
snows a lot and temperatures drop to around freezing-point. Other years,
it does not snow at all and is quite mild. (Lukman, 2003: 144)

Text 2

Speak gently, Spring, and make no sudden sound;

For in my windy valley, yesterday I found,
New born foxes squirming on the ground-
Speak gently

Walk softly, March, forbear the bitter blow;

Her feet within a trap, her blood upon the snow,
The four little foxes saw their mother go-
Walk softly

Go lightly, Spring, oh give them no alarm;

When I covered them with boughs so shelter them from harm
The thin blue foxes suckled at my arm-
Go lightly

Step softly, March, with your rampant hurricane;

Nuzzling one another, and whimpering with pain,
The new little foxes are shivering in the rain-
Step softly
-Lew Saret (Goodfellow and Kirkpatrick, 1968: 203)

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 Now answer the following questions:
1. What is text 1 describing about?
2. What is text 2 describing about?
3. How do you feel when you read text 1?
4. How do you feel when you read text 2?
5. Where text 1 is usually found?
6. Where text 2 is usually found?
After answering the above questions, we’ll find that those two
texts are different in purpose. Text 1 describes about seasons in
England. The writer only wants to inform us how the season in
England is without making us feel certain emotion about England.
Let’s see the second text. Yes, the writer tells us about four foxes.
He also takes us there to the situation so that we see, feel certain
emotion about the foxes.
Literature in this course is dealing with the second Rees’ definition
of literature. We are going to discuss everything about literature in
narrow sense: anything written which expresses ideas, emotion, feel-
ings, and attitude towards life. However, we also respect to oral/spoken
literature because spoken literature is much older than the written one.

1.2 URGENCY OF STUDYING LITERATURE

When students are asked about their interest in studying literature,
we’ll get unsatisfactory answers. Most of the students are worried to
deal with literature because they think that they must have certain talent
to appreciate or even make literary work. They are also afraid to be
asked to read a lot of literary work.
Jacobs and Roberts (1987: 2) state that there are many advantages
when studying literature:
1. literature helps us grow both personally and intellectually
2. It provides an objective base for our knowledge and
understanding
3. It helps us to connect ourselves to the cultural context of
which we are a part

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 4. It enables us to recognize human dreams and struggles in
societies that we would never otherwise get to know
5. It helps us to develop mature sensibility and compassion for
the condition of all living things
6. It gives us the knowledge and perception needed to appreciate
the beauty of order and arrangement, just as well as –structured
song
7. It provides the comparative basis from which we can see
worthiness in the aims of all people, and also helps us see beauty
in the world around us
8. It exercises our emotions through the arousal of interest,
concern, excitement, hope, fear, regret, laughter, and sympathy.
Hopefully, by understanding the advantages of studying literature,
it will grow students’ interest towards literature. At last, since
perhaps, the next five years most of students are going to be English
teachers, literature can much help them in teaching English in smooth
and enjoyable way. For example, when explaining about ‘simple past
tense’, teacher can use story of Cinderella. As the result, students will
enjoy the lesson even though it is such a difficult topic for them.

1.3 GENRES OF LITERATURE

Jacobs and Henry (1987: 3) classify literature into three genres:
prose fiction, poetry, and drama. Prose fiction includes novels, short
story, myths, parables, romances and epic. They talk about characters
that undergo some kind of change as they meet other characters or
deal with problems in their lives. Poetry is much more economical than
prose fiction and relying heavily on imagery, figurative, rhythm, and
sound. Drama or plays are performed by the characters on the stage.
The detail of the genres of literature will be explained later on the
last four chapters. In this book, we are only going to discuss about
short story, novel, poetry and drama.

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PRACTICE
1. Read the following texts and analyze them whether they belong
to the first definition or second definition of Literature based
on Rees!
Text 1
To My Wife: Honey, we’ve sailed together in the ocean of life and I
realize that you mean a lot to me. You’ve given me support to gain
a success. Please stay and don’t ever leave me. Pray we can have
better times in future. I know I’ve made many mistakes to you, but
they just turn up to show that I am nothing without you.
Text 2
You fill up my senses
Like a night in the forest
Like a mountain in spring time
Like a walk in the rain
Like a storm in the desert
Like a sleepy blue ocean
You fill up my senses
Come fill me again

Come let me love you

Let me give my life to you
Let me drown your laughter
Let me die in your arms
Let me lie down beside you
Let me give my life to you
Come let me love you
Come love me again

2. Find two other texts and analyze them based on Rees’

definition of literature!
3. Find three texts which can exercise our emotions of:
excitement, fear and laughter!

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6
 CHAPTER II
HISTORY OF ENGLISH
LITERATURE AT A GLANCE

When we talk about history, suddenly comes up to our mind a

very long lecture or hundred pages of a book. Even though we know
how urgent to learn about history is, it is not easy to grow our interest
in it. So, let’s make the history of English literature compact so that
we can enjoy while understanding it.
Roberts and Thornley (1983) divide the English literature into
fifteen periods. We are going to compact them into seven periods only.

2.1 OLD ENGLISH LITERATURE

The greatest Old English poem is Beowulf which belongs to
seventh century. It is anonymous and the first English Epic in 3000
lines. The poem is not easy to read because it uses old English
language or Anglo-Saxon. Only those who are expert can read it.
Beowulf is about a brave young man who helps the king, Hrothgar
fight his enemy, a creature called Grendel which lives in a lake. This
creature comes to eat Hrothgar’s men. Beowulf can win the battle and
even kill the creature’s mother which comes to take revenge. At the
end of the poem, Beowulf dies because of a fight with a fire-breathing
creature. The poem ends with a sad description of Beowulf ’s funeral

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fire. Here are a few lines of it:

Alegdon tha tomiddes maerne theoden

Haeleth hiofende hlaford leofne
Ongunnon tha on beorge bael-fyra maest
Wigend weccan wudu-rech astach
Sweart ofer swiothol swogende leg
Wope bewunden

The sorrowing soldiers then laid the glorious prince, their dear lord, in the
middle. Then on the hill the war-men began to light
the greatest of funeral fires. The wood-smoke rose black above the flames,
the noisy fire, mixed with sorrowful cries

Besides Beowulf, there are several old English poem, for example
Genesis A and Genesis B. Genesis A is very long, and is just like old history
taken from the Bible and put it into poor Old English Verse. The second
is more interesting, it is short and talking about the beginning of the
world and the fall of angels. It also tells about God’s punishment of
Satan and the place of punishment for evil in hell.
We know the names of some of the later writers (Cædmon, Ælfric
and King Alfred) but most writing is anonymous. Old English
literature is mostly chronicle and poetry - lyric, descriptive but chiefly
narrative or epic. By the time literacy becomes widespread, Old
English is effectively a foreign and dead language. And its forms do

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not significantly affect subsequent developments in English literature.
(With the scholarly exception of the 19th century poet, Gerard Manley
Hopkins, who finds in Old English verse the model for his metrical
system of “sprung rhythm”.)
Old English prose came later than Old English verse. The
greatest prose in this time is Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, an early history of
the country. At this time, King Alfred translated many Latin books
into Old English; in order to make his people could read them.

2.2 MIDDLE ENGLISH LITERATURE

From 1066 onwards, the language is known to scholars as Middle
English. Ideas and themes from French and Celtic literature appear in
English writing at about this time, but the first great name in English
literature is that of Geoffrey Chaucer (1343-1400). Chaucer introduces
the iambic pentameter line, the rhyming couplet and other rhymes used
in Italian. Some of Chaucer’s work is prose and some is lyric poetry, but
his greatest work is mostly narrative poetry, which we find in Troilus and
Criseyde and The Canterbury Tales. Other notable medieval works are
the anonymous Pearl and Gawain and the Green Knight (probably by the
same author) and William Langlands’ Piers Plowman.
An important Middle English prose work is Morte D’Arthur (Arthur’s
Death) written by Sir Thomas Malory. He wrote eight separate tales of
King Arthur and his Knights. It was very popular among British and other
writers. Many tales gathered around him and his knights.
Plays in Middle English mostly told religious stories. They are played
near churches and called Miracle, or Mystery plays. The subjects of
the Miracle play are for example: Adam and Eve, Noah and the
Great Flood, Abraham and Isaac, etc.
Besides Miracle, other plays, Morality Plays were also performed.
The subjects were not people; they were virtues, such as Truth or bad
qualities, such as Greed or Revenge. The plays presented moral truths.

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2.3 ELIZABETHAN PERIOD
Modern lyric poetry in English begins in the early 16th century
with the work of Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542) and Henry Howard,
Earl of Surrey (1517-1547). Sir Thomas Wyatt and Earl of Surrey are
often mentioned together, but there are many differences in their work.
Wyatt, who is greatly influenced by the Italian, Francesco Petrarca
(Petrarch) introduces the sonnet and a range of short lyrics to English,
while Surrey (as he is known) develops unrhymed pentameters (or blank
verse) thus inventing the verse form which will be of great use to
contemporary dramatists.
The poet who introduced the Elizabethan age representative
was Edmund Spencer with The Shepherd’s Calendar in 1579. He makes
experiments in metre and form, examines his abilities. His greatest
work was The Faerie Queene (1589-96). He invented special metre for
this work. The verse has nine lines; of these has six feet, the others
five. The rhyme plan is ababbcbcc. The following verse is an example:
Long thus traveled through deserts wide,
By which she thought her wand’ring knight should pass
Yet never show of living wight espied
Till that at length she found the trodden grass
In which the track of people’s footing was
Under the step foot of a mountain hoar
The same she follows, till at last she has
A damsel spied slow-footing her before
That on her shoulders sad a pot of water bore.

The great literary glory of Elizabethan age was its drama. Com-
edies are better than tragedies. The first regular English comedy was
Ralph Roister Doister (1553) by Nicholas Udall. It contains humour that
may be found among country people.
The first great dramatist of the time was Chistopher Marlowe. He
wrote his first tragedy, Tamburlaine the Great. The play was very well
received, but not the violence of the language and action. Marlowe’s
Edward the Second, his best play, talked about English history.

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 William Shakespeare came up this time. Not many people know
about his life. It is known that he was an actor and dramatist by 1592.
He started his work by improving other people works. His first great
tragedy was Romeo and Juliet (1594-5). It is very popular. The story of
tragic love is known in all parts of civilized world. Then he made his
first comedy, A Comedy of Errors. Then following his great works: Julius
Caesar, Anthony and Cleopatra, Coriolanus, Hamlet, King Lear, Macbeth,
and Othello. His last plays were Cymbeline, The Winter’s Tale and The
Tempest.

2.4 RESTORATION PERIOD

In 1660, King Charles II ruled and made great influence in literature
development. Theaters opened again and new dramatists appeared. John
Dryden, a writer of heroic play, The Conquest of Granada made some
good lyrics. His first comedy was Marriage a-la-Mode. It was bad blank
verse. None of his works are acted now because of the inequality of the
play.
Thomas Otway was another dramatist this time. He wrote Don
Carlos, The Orphan, and Venice Preserved. A new comedy appeared at the
end of this century was Comedy of Manners. It was introduced by George
Etherege. Then Sir John Vanbrugh wrote three successful comedies,
The Relapse, The Provoked Life, and The Confederacy. His characters are
unique, and his plots are interesting, but his writing unremarkable.
In 1773, Oliver Goldsmith wrote She Stoops to Conquer. Then,
Richard Sheridan wrote The Rivals. John Bunyan, a prose writer of The
Pilgrim’s Progress and the Holy War used allegory style. John Locke’s
prose was also clear and without ornaments. His work, Essay on the
Human Understanding was the most important works of English
philosophy. It gave new wave to thought, not only in England, but
also in other countries of Europe although, as Locke himself warned:
New opinions are always suspected, and usually opposed,
without any other reason but because they are not already common.

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2.5 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY LITERATURE
Daniel Defoe wrote Robinson Crusoe in 1719. His book was the
first in English and very famous. It was based on the real life of Alexander
Selkirk who was thrown away in a strange island of Juan Fernandes.
Alexander lived there alone for four years.
In 1704, Jonathan Swift wrote The Battle of the Books on the side of
the ancients. Then, he produced Tale of a Tub which attacked religious
ideas and annoyed a large number of readers. His most famous satire
was Gulliver’s Travels. Gulliver’s voyage to Liliput was very famous for
young readers. It told Guliver’s travel to the place of Liliput where the
people there were only six inches high.
The first English novel is generally accepted to be Pamela (1740),
by Samuel Richardson (1689-1761): this novel takes the form of a
series of letters; Pamela, a virtuous housemaid resists the advances of
her rich employer, who eventually marries her. Richardson’s work was
almost at once satirized by Henry Fielding (1707-1754) in Joseph Andrews
(Joseph is depicted as the brother of Richardson’s Pamela Andrews)
and Tom Jones appeared in eighteen books. Tom Jones was his great
work telling about a boy named Tom who lived in Allworthy’s house.
Another Fielding’s books is about criminal, The History of Jonathan Wild.
It was a satire telling a man, Wild, who stole a lot of money with his
followers before he was found guilty and put to death.
Tobias Smollet produced a novel, Roderick Random, in 1748. It was
powerful and unpleasant telling about the bitter life of those who sail
in the sea. Then, Peregine Picke was written in 1751. Humprey Clinker
was also his novel. Most of Smollet’s books describe life and society
at his time.
Laurence Sterne was the next novel writer this time. He wrote
Tristam Shandy in 1760-7 that made him famous. Another novel
written by Sterne was A Sentimental Journey through France and Italy.
Then, there was Mrs. Ann Radcliffe who developed the novel of
terror with work of better quality. She could well describe unusual
things, such as moving walls and secret passages. She also wrote The

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Mystery of Udolpho (1794) which setting was in the Appenine Mountains.
Her other novels were Romance of the Forest (1791), The Italian (1797), A
Sicilian Romance (1790), and an Italian Romance.

2.6 NINETEENTH CENTURY LITERATURE

a. Early Nineteenth Century Poets
The publication in 1798 by the poets William Wordsworth (1770-
1850) and Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) of a volume entitled
Lyrical Ballads is a significant event in English literary history, though
the poems were poorly received and few books sold. The elegant
Latinisms of Gray are dropped in favour of a kind of English closer to
that spoken by real people (supposedly). Actually, the attempts to
render the speech of ordinary people are not wholly convincing.
Coleridge’s poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner appeared in the
first edition of the Lyrical Ballads. Two other important poems by
Coleridge are Christabel (1816) and Kubla Khan (1816).
Wordsworth’s best sonnets are Westminster Bridge, and London. Other
short poems are The Daffodils, the Solitary Reaper, and Lucy.
The work of the later romantics John Keats (1795-1821) and his
friend Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822; husband of Mary Shelley) are
marked by an attempt to make language beautiful, and by an interest in
remote history and exotic places. George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-
1824) uses romantic themes, sometimes comically, to explain
contemporary events. Romanticism begins as a revolt against established
views, but eventually becomes the established outlook. Wordsworth
becomes a kind of national monument, while the Victorians make what
was at first revolutionary seem familiar, domestic and sentimental.

b. Later Nineteenth century poets

The major poets of this era are Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)
and Robert Browning (1812-1889). Both are prolific and varied, and
their work defies easy classification. Tennyson makes extensive use of
classical myth and Arthurian legend, and has been praised for the

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beautiful and musical qualities of his writing.
Browning’s chief interest is in people; he uses blank verse in writing
dramatic monologues in which the speaker achieves a kind of self-
portraiture: his subjects are both historical individuals (Fra Lippo Lippi,
Andrea del Sarto) and representative types or caricatures (Mr. Sludge the
Medium).
Other poets of note include Browning’s wife, Elizabeth Barrett
Browning (1806-1861) and Christina Rossetti (1830-1894). Gerard
Manley Hopkins (1844-1889) is notable for his use of what he calls
“sprung rhythm”; as in Old English verse syllables are not counted,
but there is a pattern of stresses. Hopkins’ work was not well-known
until very long after his death.

c. Nineteenth Century Novelists

Certainly the greatest English novelist of the 19th century, and
possibly of all time, is Charles Dickens (1812-1870). The complexity
of his best work, the variety of tone, the use of irony and caricature
create surface problems for the modern reader, who may not readily
persist in reading. But Great Expectations, Bleak House, Our Mutual Friend
and Little Dorrit are works with which every student should be
acquainted.
Charlotte Brontë (1816-1855) and her sisters Emily (1818-1848)
and Anne (1820-1849) are understandably linked together, but their
work differs greatly. Charlotte is notable for several good novels, among
which her masterpiece is Jane Eyre, in which we see the heroine, after
much adversity, achieve happiness on her own terms. Emily Brontë’s
Wüthering Heights is a strange work, which enjoys almost cult status. Its
concerns are more romantic, less contemporary than those of Jane Eyre
- but its themes of obsessive love and self-destructive passion have
proved popular with the 20th century reader.
After the middle of the century, the novel, as a form, becomes
firmly-established: sensational or melodramatic “popular” writing is
represented by Mrs. Henry Wood’s East Lynne (1861), but the best

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novelists achieved serious critical acclaim while reaching a wide public,
notable authors being Anthony Trollope (1815-82), Wilkie Collins
(1824-89), William Makepeace Thackeray (1811-63), George Eliot
(Mary Ann Evans; 1819-80) and Thomas Hardy (1840-1928). Among
the best novels are Collins’s The Moonstone, Thackeray’s Vanity Fair,
Eliot’s The Mill on the Floss, Adam Bede and Middlemarch, and Hardy’s
The Mayor of Casterbridge, The Return of the Native, Tess of the d’Urbervilles
and Jude the Obscure.

2.7 TWENTIETH CENTURY LITERATURE

a. Twentieth Century poets
W.B. (William Butler) Yeats (1865-1939) is one of two figures
who dominate modern poetry, the other being T.S. (Thomas Stearns)
Eliot (1888-1965). Yeats was Irish; Eliot was born in the USA but
settled in England, and took UK citizenship in 1927. Yeats uses
conventional lyric forms, but explores the connection between
modern themes and classical and romantic ideas. Eliot uses elements
of conventional forms, within an unconventionally structured whole
in his greatest works. Where Yeats is prolific as a poet, Eliot’s
reputation largely rests on two long and complex works: The Waste
Land (1922) and Four Quartets (1943).The work of these two has
overshadowed the work of the best late Victorian, Edwardian and
Georgian poets, some of whom came to prominence during the First
World War. Among these are Thomas Hardy, Rudyard Kipling (1865-
1936), A.E. Housman (1859-1936), Edward Thomas (1878-1917),
Rupert Brooke (1887-1915), Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967), Wilfred
Owen (1893-1918) and Isaac Rosenberg (1890-1918). The most
celebrated modern American poet, is Robert Frost (1874-1963), who
befriended Edward Thomas before the war of 1914-1918
b. Twentieth Century Drama
George Bernard Shaw produced his drama Arms and the Man in
1898. It presented as a sympathetic figure a soldier who doesn’t want
to fight. He doesn’t believe any religion. However, he wrote Saint Joan

15
(1924) in which he mentioned about church and state he had become
a threat. Pygmalion (1912) is very well known because it was the basis
of film My Fair Lady.
Samuel Becket wrote his play Waiting for Godot (1954) is one of
important work in this century. The play shows the humour and the
pain in the same time. Then, John Osborn came up and became
famous with his play Look Back in Anger presented a new type of hero
who became known as the angry young man.

PRACTICE
Find in internet the works of the following author: Jane Austin’s
Pride and Prejudice and Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Height. Read and retell
them in a group discussion at the next meeting!

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 CHAPTER III
LITERATURE AROUND US

When we were children, our mothers or

fathers often told or read us bedtime
stories. We were so excited that we can
remember the stories even when we
grow. The stories are often full of moral
values which our parents hope that we
maintain them in our life.
Now, can you give the examples of
bedtime stories your mothers told you when you’re children?
See, it is very clear now that we actually have engaged with
literature since we were little. Bedtime stories, nursery rhymes are
examples of literary work. In every country, bedtime stories, legends
and fables exist. They are shared from generation to generation. So, it
is not exaggerating if we find a very old story is still told to children.
In an English society, children’s tradition, oral or written has
become tradition to people in other countries (Haryanti, 2004: 8).
Parents in other countries read or recite it to their children. Nursery
rhymes are good examples of it.
Here are the examples of nursery rhymes in English which are

17
popular in other countries. Sometimes, the words are translated, but
the tones remain the same.

1) BAA, BAA, BLACK SHEEP

Baa, baa, black sheep
Have you any wool?

Yes, sir. Yes, sir

Three bags full
One for my master,
One for my dame
And one for the little boy that lives down the lane

2) TWO LITTLE HANDS TO CLAP, CLAP, CLAP

Two little hands to clap, clap, clap
Two little legs go tap, tap, tap
Two little eyes are open wide,
One little head goes side to side

3) TWINKLE, TWINKLE LITTLE STAR

Twinkle, twinkle little star,
How I wonder what you are
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky

4) ARE YOU SLEEPING

Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping?
Brother John, Brother John
Morning bells are ringing
Morning bells are ringing
Ding dong bell, ding dong bell

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5) ONE, TWO
One, two
Buckle my shoe
Three, four
Shut the door
Five, six
Pick up the sticks
Seven, eight
Set them straight
Nine ten
A big fat hen

6) JACK AND JILL

Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down
And broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after

7) HOP A LITTLE
Hop a little, jump a little
One, two, three
Run a little, skip a little
Tap, tap one knee
Bend a little, stretch a little
Nod your head
Yawn a little, sleep a little
In your bed

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PRACTICE
1. Read the nursery rhymes above and analyze them based on
the following table!
No Title Theme Lesson
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.

2. Find 5 nursery rhymes in your own region (They can be

Indonesian, Javanese, Sundanese, and so on). Then, analyze
them based on the above table!
3. Read the following text and decide the category (legend,
bedtime story, nursery rhyme, etc.)!

Goldilocks and the Three Bears

Once upon a time in a large forest, close to a village, stood the cottage
where the Teddy Bear family lived. They were not really proper Teddy Bears,
for Father Bear was very big, Mother Bear was middling in size, and only
Baby Bear could be described as a Teddy Bear.
Each bear had its own size of bed. Father Bear’s was large and nice and
comfy. Mother Bear’s bed was middling in size, while Baby Bear had a fine
little cherry wood bed that Father Bear had ordered from a couple of beaver

20
friends.
Beside the fireplace, around which the family sat in the evenings, stood a
large carved chair for the head of the house, a delightful blue velvet armchair
for Mother Bear, and a very little chair for Baby Bear.
Neatly laid out on the kitchen table stood three china bowls. A large one
for Father Bear, a smaller one for Mother Bear, and a little bowl for Baby
Bear.
The neighbors were all very respectful to Father Bear and people raised
their hats when he went by. Father Bear liked that and he always politely
replied to their greetings. Mother Bear had lots of friends. She visited them in
the afternoons to exchange good advice and recipes for jam and bottled fruit.
Baby Bear, however, had hardly any friends. This was partly because he was
rather a bully and liked to win games and arguments. He was a pest too and
always getting into mischief. Not far away, lived a fair-haired little girl who
had a similar nature to Baby Bear, only she was haughty and stuck-up as well,
and though Baby Bear often asked her to come and play at his house, she
always said no.
One day, Mother Bear made a nice pudding. It was a new recipe, with
blueberries and other crushed berries. Her friends told her it was delicious.
When it was ready, she said to the family:
“It has to be left to cool now, otherwise it won’t taste nice. That will take
at least an hour. Why don’t we go and visit the Beavers’ new baby? Mummy
Beaver will be pleased to see us.” Father Bear and Baby Bear would much
rather have tucked into the pudding, warm or not, but they liked the thought
of visiting the new baby.
“We must wear our best clothes, even for such a short visit. Everyone at
the Beavers’ will be very busy now, and we must not stay too long!” And so
they set off along the pathway towards the river bank. A short time later, the
stuck-up little girl, whose name was Goldilocks, passed by the Bears’ house as
she picked flowers.
“Oh, what an ugly house the Bears have!” said Goldilocks to herself as
she went down the hill. “I’m going to peep inside! It won’t be beautiful like
my house, but I’m dying to see where Baby Bear lives.’ Knock! Knock! The
little girl tapped on the door. Knock! Knock! Not a sound...
“Surely someone will hear me knocking,” Goldilocks said herself,
impatiently.
“Anyone at home?” she called, peering round the door. Then she went
into the empty house and started to explore the kitchen.
“A pudding!” she cried, dipping her finger into the pudding Mother Bear
had left to cool. “Quite nice!” she murmured, spooning it from Baby Bear’s
bowl. In a twinkling, the bowl lay empty on a messy table. With a full tummy,

21
Goldilocks went on exploring.
“Now then, this must be Father Bear’s chair, this will be Mother Bear’s,
and this one must belong to my friend, Baby Bear. I’ll just sit on it a while!”
With these words, Goldilocks sat herself down onto the little chair which,
quite unused to such a sudden weight, promptly broke a leg. Goldilocks crashed
to the floor, but not in the least dismayed by the damage she had done, she
went upstairs. There was no mistaking which was Baby Bear’s bed.
“Mm! Quite comfy!” she said, I bouncing on it. “Not as nice as mine, but
nearly! Then she yawned. I think I’ll lie down, only for a minute just to try the
bed.” And in next to no time, Goldilocks lay fast asleep in Baby Bear’s bed. In
the meantime, the Bears were on their way home.
“Wasn’t the new Beaver baby ever so small?” said Baby Bear to his mother.
Was I as tiny as that when I was born?”
“Not quite, but almost,” came the reply, with a fond caress. From a
distance, Father Bear noticed the door was ajar.
“Hurry!” he cried. “Someone is in our house . . .” Was Father Bear hungry
or did a thought strike him? Anyway, he dashed into the kitchen. “I knew it!
Somebody has gobbled up the pudding.”
    ”Someone has been jumping up and down on my armchair!”
complained Mother Bear.
“And somebody’s broken my chair!” wailed Baby Bear.
Where could the culprit be? They all ran upstairs and tiptoed in
amazement over to Baby Bear’s bed. In it laid Goldilocks, sound asleep. Baby
Bear prodded her toe.
“Who’s that? Where am I?” shrieked the little girl, waking with a start. Taking
fright at the scowling faces bending over her, she clutched the bedclothes up to
her chin. Then she jumped out of bed and fled down the stairs.
“Get away! Away from that house!” she told herself as she ran, forgetful
of all the trouble she had so unkindly caused. But Baby Bear called from the
door, waving his arm:
“Don’t run away! Come back! I forgive you, come and play with me!”
And this is how it all ended. From that day onwards, haughty rude
Goldilocks became a pleasant little girl. She made friends with Baby Bear and
often went to his house. She invited him to her house too, and they remained
good friends, always..

22
 CHAPTER IV
QUALITIES OF LITERATURE

Judging that one literary work, e.g. poem is “bad” and another is
“good” is dangerous thing (Goodfellow and Kirkpatrick, 1968:15).
Remember, everyone has his own taste, and individual differences.
When you call one poem is good, it doesn’t mean that everyone will
agree or have the same taste as yours. It is all about personal taste and
individual differences.
Of course, we can say that sometimes, several people can enjoy
the same literary works or we call it favorites because majority of people
like them. Then, a question comes to us: Why do people like that
literary work? So, it is valuable for us to discuss about some qualities
of good literature proposed by Rees (Haryanti, 2004: 17). They are
psychological truth, originality, craftsmanship, consciousness of moral
value, and permanence.

4.1 PSYCHOLOGICAL TRUTH

It is the quality of reflecting thoughts or feelings recognized as
being true to life. A story or whatever our work is should make sense.
By being natural in presenting a plot, all audiences will feel satisfied
with our work. Let’s take an example story of a knight who can easily

23
defeat his enemies and get the princess easily. No challenge, nor threats
to save the princess. The audiences will not feel satisfied. It will be
different if the knight should pass many tests of bravery. He should
defeat furious creatures, across a very deep jungle. The later plot will
make the audiences enjoy the plot so much, even need to know the
end of the story.

4.2 ORIGINALITY
It is the way an author presenting his ideas which is different from
others. It is not always about the theme. Perhaps, the theme is well
known, but he then uses his own way to present it. For example, love
is very classic theme, isn’t it? However, sometimes one author sees it
in a very different way which of course is not the same as ours.

4.3 CRAFTMANSHIP
Only a creative author can make work worthy and different from
others. Some authors’ works are creative in choosing words to express
the ideas or feeling. Observe this example:

THIS IS JUST TO SAY

William Carlos William

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

24
 William uses everyday life words, doesn’t he? His simple words
can very well reveal what inside his feeling is. We should note that
when you cannot make flowery words, it doesn’t mean your work is
not creative at all.

4.4 CONSCIOUSNESS OF MORAL VALUE

By reading literary work, we can always remember that there is
good and bad side. It is in line with human struggle in life. That we
should be aware of anything bad in our life is necessary. A good
literary work contains moral value that can be taken to face every
challenge.

4.5 PERMANENCE
A good literary work is the work which can be shared from
generation to generation. The good example of it is nursery rhymes
which are popular from time to time. Parents teach us the songs, and
then we can easily remember them. Other examples are bedtime
stories. Everybody knows the story of Cinderella, right?

Cinderella

Once upon a time... there lived an

unhappy young girl. Unhappy she
was, for her mother was dead, her
father had married another woman,
a widow with two daughters, and
her stepmother didn’t like her one
little bit. All the nice things, kind
thoughts and loving touches were
for her own daughters. And not just
the kind thoughts and love, but also dresses, shoes, shawls, delicious food,
comfy beds, as well as every home comfort.  All this was laid on for her
daughters. But, for the poor unhappy girl, there was nothing at all. No dresses,
only her stepsisters’ hand-me-downs. No lovely dishes, nothing but scraps.
No nice rests and comfort. For she had to work hard all day, and only when
evening came was she allowed to sit for a while by the fire, near the cinders.

25
That is how she got her nickname, for everybody called her Cinderella.
Cinderella used to spend long hours all alone talking to the cat. The cat said
“Miaow”, which really meant, “Cheer up! You have something neither of
your stepsisters has and that is beauty.”
It was quite true. Cinderella, even dressed in rags with a dusty gray face
from the cinders, was a lovely girl. While her stepsisters, no matter how splendid
and elegant their clothes, were still clumsy, lumpy and ugly and always would be.
One day, beautiful new dresses arrived at the house. A ball was to be held
at Court and the stepsisters were getting ready to go to it. Cinderella, didn’t
even dare ask, “What about me?” for she knew very well what the answer to
that would be:
“You? My dear girl, you’re staying at home to wash the dishes, scrub the
floors and turn down the beds for your stepsisters. They will come home
tired and very sleepy.” Cinderella sighed at the cat.
“Oh dear, I’m so unhappy!” and the cat murmured “Miaow”.
Suddenly something amazing happened. In the kitchen, where Cinderella
was sitting all by herself, there was a burst of light and a fairy appeared.
“Don’t be alarmed, Cinderella,” said the fairy. “The wind blew me your
sighs. I know you would love to go to the ball. And so you shall!”
“How can I, dressed in rags?” Cinderella replied. “The servants will turn
me away!” The fairy smiled. With a flick of her magic wand... Cinderella
found herself wearing the most beautiful dress, the loveliest ever seen in the
realm.
“Now that we have settled the matter of the dress,” said the fairy, “we’ll
need to get you a coach. A real lady would never go to a ball on foot!”
“Quick! Get me a pumpkin!” she ordered.
“Oh of course,” said Cinderella, rushing away. Then the fairy turned to
the cat.
“You, bring me seven mice!”
“Seven mice!” said the cat. “I didn’t know fairies ate mice too!”
“They’re not for eating, silly! Do as you are told! ... and, remember they
must be alive!”
Cinderella soon returned with a fine pumpkin and the cat with seven
mice he had caught in the cellar.
“Good!” exclaimed the fairy. With a flick of her magic wand... wonder
of wonders! The pumpkin turned into a sparkling coach and the mice
became six white horses, while the seventh mouse turned into a coachman, in
a smart uniform and carrying a whip. Cinderella could hardly believe her eyes.
“I shall present you at Court. You will soon see that the Prince, in whose
honor the ball is being held, will be enchanted by your loveliness. But
remember! You must leave the ball at midnight and come home. For that is

26
when the spell ends. Your coach will turn back into a pumpkin, the horses will
become mice again and the coachman will turn back into a mouse... and you
will be dressed again in rags and wearing clogs instead of these dainty little
slippers! Do you understand?” Cinderella smiled and said,
“Yes, I understand!”
When Cinderella entered the ballroom at the palace, a hush fell. Everyone
stopped in mid-sentence to admire her elegance, her beauty and grace.
“Who can that be?” people asked each other. The two stepsisters also
wondered who the newcomer was, for never in a month of Sundays, would
they ever have guessed that the beautiful girl was really poor Cinderella who
talked to the cat!
When the prince set eyes on Cinderella, he was struck by her beauty. Walking
over to her, he bowed deeply and asked her to dance. And to the great
disappointment of all the young ladies, he danced with Cinderella all evening.
“Who are you, fair maiden?” the Prince kept asking her. But Cinderella
only replied:
“What does it matter who I am! You will never see me again anyway.”
“Oh, but I shall, I’m quite certain!” he replied.
Cinderella had a wonderful time at the ball... But, all of a sudden, she
heard the sound of a clock: the first stroke of midnight! She remembered
what the fairy had said, and without a word of goodbye she slipped from the
Prince’s arms and ran down the steps. As she ran she lost one of her slippers,
but not for a moment did she dream of stopping to pick it up! If the last
stroke of midnight were to sound... oh... what a disaster that would be! Out
she fled and vanished into the night.
The Prince, who was now madly in love with her, picked up her slipper
and said to his ministers,
“Go and search everywhere for the girl whose foot this slipper fits. I will
never be content until I find her!” So the ministers tried the slipper on the foot
of all the girls... and on Cinderella’s foot as well... Surprise! The slipper fitted
perfectly.
“That awful untidy girl simply cannot have been at the ball,” snapped the
stepmother. “Tell the Prince he ought to marry one of my two daughters!
Can’t you see how ugly Cinderella is! Can’t you see?”
Suddenly she broke off, for the fairy had appeared.
“That’s enough!” she exclaimed, raising her magic wand. In a flash,
Cinderella appeared in a splendid dress, shining with youth and beauty. Her
stepmother and stepsisters gaped at her in amazement, and the ministers said,
“Come with us, fair maiden! The Prince awaits to present you with his
engagement ring!” So Cinderella joyfully went with them, and lived happily
ever after with her Prince. And as for the cat, he just said “Miaow”!

27
 Hansel and Gretel

Once upon a time a very poor woodcutter lived in a tiny cottage in the
forest with his two children, Hansel and Gretel. His second wife often
ill-treated the children and was forever nagging the woodcutter.
“There is not enough food in the house for us all. There are too many
mouths to feed! We must get rid of the two brats,” she declared. And she
kept on trying to persuade her husband to abandon his children in the forest.
“Take them miles from home, so far that they can never find their way
back! Maybe someone will find them and give them a home.” The downcast
woodcutter didn’t know what to do. Hansel who, one evening, had
overheard his parents’ conversation, comforted Gretel.
Don’t worry! If they do leave us in the forest, we’ll find the way home,”
he said. And slipping out of the house he filled his pockets with little white
pebbles, and then went back to bed.
All night long, the woodcutter’s wife harped on and on at her husband
till, at dawn, he led Hansel and Gretel away into the forest. But as they went
into the depths of the trees, Hansel dropped a little white pebble here and
there on the mossy green ground. At a certain point, the two children found
they really were alone: the woodcutter had plucked up enough courage to
desert them, had mumbled an excuse and was gone.
Night fell but the woodcutter did not return. Gretel began to sob bitterly.
Hansel too felt scared but he tried to hide his feelings and comfort his sister.
“Don’t cry, trust me! I swear I’ll take you home even if Father doesn’t
come back for us!” Luckily the moon was full that night and Hansel waited till
its cold light filtered through the trees.

28
 “Now give me your hand!” he said. “We’ll get home safely, you’ll see!”
The tiny white pebbles gleamed in the moonlight, and the children found their
way home. They crept through a half open window, without wakening their
parents. Cold, tired but thankful to be home again, they slipped into bed.
Next day, when their stepmother discovered that Hansel and Gretel had
returned, she went into a rage. Stifling her anger in front of the children, she
locked her bedroom door, reproaching her husband for failing to carry out
her orders. The weak woodcutter protested, torn as he was between shame
and fear of disobeying his cruel wife. The wicked stepmother kept Hansel
and Gretel under lock and key all day with nothing for supper but a sip of
water and some hard bread. All night, husband and wife quarreled, and when
dawn came, the woodcutter led the children out into the forest.
Hansel, however, had not eaten his bread, and as he walked through the
trees, he left a trail of crumbs behind him to mark the way. But the little boy
had forgotten about the hungry birds that lived in the forest. When they saw
him, they flew along behind and in no time at all, had eaten all the crumbs.
Again, with a lame excuse, the woodcutter left his two children by themselves.
“I’ve left a trail, like last time!” Hansel whispered to Gretel, consolingly.
But when night fell, they saw to their horror that all the crumbs had gone.
“I’m frightened!” wept Gretel bitterly. “I’m cold and hungry and I want
to go home!”
“Don’t be afraid. I’m here to look after you!” Hansel tried to encourage
his sister, but he too shivered when he glimpsed frightening shadows and evil
eyes around them in the darkness. All night the two children huddled together
for warmth at the foot of a large tree.
When dawn broke, they started to wander about the forest, seeking a path,
but all hope soon faded. They were well and truly lost. On they walked and
walked, till suddenly they came upon a strange cottage in the middle of a glade.
“This is chocolate!” gasped Hansel as he broke a lump of plaster from
the wall. 
“And this is icing!” exclaimed Gretel, putting another piece of wall in her
mouth. Starving but delighted, the children began to eat pieces of candy broken
off the cottage.     “Isn’t this delicious?” said Gretel, with her mouth full. She
had never tasted anything so nice.
“We’ll stay here,” Hansel declared, munching a bit of nougat. They were
just about to try a piece of the biscuit door when it quietly swung open.
“Well, well!” said an old woman, peering out with a crafty look. “And
haven’t you children a sweet tooth?”
“Come in! Come in, you’ve nothing to fear!” went on the old woman.
Unluckily for Hansel and Gretel, however, the sugar candy cottage belonged
to an old witch, her trap for catching unwary victims. The two children had

29
come to a really nasty place.
“You’re nothing but skin and bones!” said the witch, locking Hansel into
a cage. I shall fatten you up and eat you!”
“You can do the housework,” she told Gretel grimly, “then I’ll make a
meal of you too!” As luck would have it, the witch had very bad eyesight, and
when Gretel smeared butter on her glasses, she could see even less.
“Let me feel your finger!” said the witch to Hansel every day to check if
he was getting any fatter. Now, Gretel had brought her brother a chicken
bone, and when the witch went to touch his finger, Hansel held out the bone.
“You’re still much too thin!” she complained. When will you become
plump?” One day the witch grew tired of waiting.
“Light the oven,” she told Gretel. “We’re going to have a tasty roasted
boy today!” A little later, hungry and impatient, she went on: “Run and see if
the oven is hot enough.” Gretel returned, whimpering: “I can’t tell if it is hot
enough or not.” Angrily, the witch screamed at the little girl: “Useless child! All
right, I’ll see for myself.” But when the witch bent down to peer inside the
oven and checked the heat, Gretel gave her a tremendous push and slammed
the oven door shut. The witch had come to a fit and proper end. Gretel ran
to set her brother free and they made quite sure that the oven door was tightly
shut behind the witch. Indeed, just to be on the safe side, they fastened it
firmly with a large padlock. Then they stayed for several days to eat some
more of the house, till they discovered amongst the witch’s belongings, a huge
chocolate egg. Inside laid a casket of gold coins.
“The witch is now burnt to a cinder,” said Hansel, “so we’ll take this
treasure with us.” They filled a large basket with food and set off into the
forest to search for the way home. This time, luck was with them, and on the
second day, they saw their father come out of the house towards them, weeping.
“Your stepmother is dead. Come home with me now, my dear
children!” The two children hugged the woodcutter.
“Promise you’ll never ever desert us again,” said Gretel, throwing her
arms round her father’s neck. Hansel opened the casket.
“Look, Father! We’re rich now... You’ll never have to chop wood again.”
And they all lived happily together ever after.

30
PRACTICE
1. Read the stories above and analyze them based on the
following table!
2. Find five literary works and analyze whether the works are
fulfilling Rees criteria of good literature
Title Psychological Craftsmanship Originality Consciousness Permanence
truth of moral value

31
32
 CHAPTER V
POETRY

5.1 DEFINITION OF POETRY

Poetry based on Hibbard and Thrall (1960: 364) is a term applied to
the many forms in which man has given a rhythmic expression to his
most imaginative and intense perceptions of his worlds, himself, and
the interrelationship of the two. They then quote several definitions of
poetry which are noteworthy:
I would define the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of beauty.
Its sole arbiter is taste. With the intellect or with the conscience it has only
collateral relations. Unless incidentally, it has no concern whatever either
with the duty or with truth.
-Edgar Allan Poe
Poetry is the imaginative expression of strong feeling, usually rhythmical
…the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings recollected in tranquility.
-William Wordsworth
Poetry…a criticism of life under the conditions fixed for such a criticism
by the laws of poetic truth and beauty.
-Mathew Arnold
…the rhythmic, inevitably narrative, movement from an overclothed
blindness to a naked vision.
-Dylan Thomas

33
 If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever
warm me, I know that it is poetry. I feel physically as if the top of my
head were taken off, I know that it is poetry.
-Emily Dickinson

…the presentment, in musical form, to the imagination, of noble grounds

for the noble emotions.
-Ruskin

Those definitions bring us to three main things, that poetry: (1) it

has a particular content, (2) it has a more or less particular form, and
(3) it has a particular effect.
If you are still confused with the definitions above, let’s make
simpler. Poetry has special characteristic: it has rhythm. Just like in
music, it sometimes has heavy or light beats, doesn’t it? Poetry is also
imaginative. It employs our imagination to express what inside our
feeling is and attitude towards our lives.

5.2 ELEMENTS OF POETRY

There are several elements which make up a good poem. In brief,
Madhavi Ghare (http://www.buzzle.com/authors) classifies the
elements of poetry. They are rhythm, meter, rhyme, alliteration, simile,
metaphor, symbol, and theme. Let’s observe every element:
Name How to mark it Examples Beat
Iamb (iambic) ˉ˘ De - light da-Da
Trochee (trochaic) ˘ˉ Cen - tral Da-da
Anapest (anapestic) ˉˉ˘ Un – der – stand da-da-Da
Dactyl (dactylic) ˘ˉˉ Si – mi - lar Da-da-da

a. Rhythm
This is the music made by the statements of the poem, which
includes the syllables in the lines. The best method of understanding
this is to read the poem aloud. Listen for the sounds and the music
made when we hear the lines spoken aloud. For example the word
forget. When you pronounce it, you automatically give it a certain
rhythm. It has unaccented (light) syllable, for, and accented (heavy)

34
syllable, get. There are many words following this pattern, e.g. delight,
surprise, enjoy, etc.
Almost all English poetry is built on the following variations of
accent. Observe this table:

b. Meter
This is the basic structural make-up of the poem. Do the syllables
match with each other? Every line in the poem must adhere to this
structure. A poem is made up of blocks of lines, which convey a single
strand of thought. Within those blocks, a structure of syllables which
follow the rhythm has to be included.

c. Rhyme
A poem may or may not have a rhyme. When you write poetry that
has rhyme, it means that the last words of the lines match with each
other in some form. Either the last words of the first and second lines
would rhyme with each other or the first and the third, second and the
fourth and so on. Rhyme is basically similar sounding words like ‘cat’
and ‘hat’, ‘close’ and ‘shows’, ‘house’ and ‘mouse’ etc. Free verse
poetry, though, does not follow this system. Look at this example in
which Rosseti uses rhyme:

Who Has Seen the Wind

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you
But when the leaves hang trembling
The wind is passing thro’

Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I
But when the trees bow down their heads
The wind is passing by
Christina Rosseti

35
d. Alliteration
This is also used in several poems for sound effect. Several words in
the sentence may begin with the same alphabet or syllable sound. For
example, in the sentence “Many minute miniature moments,” the sound
of the alphabet ‘M’ is repeated in all the four words continuously. When
you say those words aloud, the sound effect generated is called
Alliteration.

e. Simile
A simile is a method of comparison using the words ‘like’ or ‘as’.
When, in a poem, something is said to be ‘like’ another it means that
the poet is using Simile to convey his feelings about what (s)he is
describing. For example, in the statement ‘Her laughter was like a
babbling brook’, the poet is comparing the laughter of the girl to the
sound made by a babbling brook. Note that ‘babbling brook’ is an
example of Alliteration. Observe the following example:

A Red, Red Rose

O, my love is like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June.
O, my love is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune,

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in love am I.
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till all the seas go dry.
Till all the seas go dry, my dear,
And I rocks melt with the sun!
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands of live so run.
And fare thee well, my only love,
And fare thee well a while!
And I will come again, my love,
Though it were ten thousand miles!
ROBERT BURNS

36
f. Metaphor
A metaphor is a method of comparison where the words ‘like’ and
‘as’ are not used. To modify the earlier example, if the statement used
had been something like ‘Her laughter, a babbling brook’, then it would
be the use of Metaphor.

g. Theme
This is what the poem is all about. The theme of the poem is the
central idea that the poet wants to convey. It can be a story, or a
thought, or a description of something or someone – anything which
is what the poem is all about.

h. Symbolism
Often poems will convey ideas and thoughts using symbols. A
symbol can stand for many things at one time and leads the reader out
of a systematic and structured method of looking at things. Often a
symbol used in the poem will be used to create such an effect.

PRACTICE
1. Read the following poems and analyze their elements!
2. Answer the following questions based on each poem:
a. Who is the speaker in the poem?
b. Whom is he talking to?
c. What is he or she talking about?
d. How is he or she talking about it?

THIS IS JUST TO SAY

William Carlos William
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which

37
you were probably
saving for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives a harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
—Robert Frost

RICHARD CORY
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,

And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good morning,” and he glittered when he walk.

38
And he was rich-yes, ricer than a king-
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine he through that he was everything
To make us wish that he was in his place.
So on he worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
—Edwin Arlington Robinson—-

I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills
When all at once I saw a crowd
A host of golden daffodils
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way
The stretched in never ending line
Along the margin of bay
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance

The waves beside them danced; but they

Outdid the sparkling waves in glee
A poet could not be gay
In such a jocund company
I gazed and gazed but little thought
—William Wordsworth

39
SEA FEVER
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and sky
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking
And a gray mist on the sea’s face and a gray dawn breaking

I must down to the seas again, for she call of the running tide
Is a wild call and clear call that may not be denied
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying
And the flung spray and the blows spume, and the sea-gull crying

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life

To the sea gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like
a whetted knife
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow- rover
And quiet sleep and sweet dream when the long trick’s over

2. Try to compose your own poem!

40
 CHAPTER VI
PROSE FICTION

6.1 DEFINITION OF PROSE FICTION

Koesnosoebroto (1988) defines prose fiction into two: broad and
narrow sense. In a broad sense, prose fiction is imaginative literature.
It is different from essay since it employs imagination. While in a
narrower sense, prose fiction has five characteristics: (1) it is fiction in
the broad literary sense, it is the same as factual truth, (2) it is
non-dramatic, (3) it is narrative, (4) it is descriptive, and (5) it is prose.
Based on length, complexity of theme and development of
character and plot, prose fiction can be classified into: short story,
novella or novelette, and the novel. The detail of each will be
explained later in this chapter.

6.2 ELEMENTS OF PROSE FICTION

1. Setting: The background in which the story takes place. There are
several aspects to setting:
(a) Place: This is the geographical location of the story. Since
novels are lengthy, the story may move from one place to
another. When asked to describe the setting, you may give the
general geographical location (e.g., in a novel which takes place

41
 in numerous locations around Italy, you may mention only the
country) or you may describe several specific locations.
(b) Time: First, this refers to the period of history, if the story is
set in the past. If the story could happen now or at some recent
unspecified time, we say that it is “contemporary.” If it is a
science fiction story, it may be set in the future. When
describing setting, be as specific as the author is. Novels usually
span (take place over) a much longer period of time than short
stories, so you may need to say that a novel’s setting in time is
from 1937 to 1956. When describing the setting of a portion
of the novel, you may be able to specify the season, month,
and even time of day.
(c) Climate/Weather: This is an aspect of setting which is often
forgotten, but it can be important to the novel. If the story
begins in the midst of a hurricane, it is significant to the story.
(d) Lifestyle: This refers to the daily life of the characters. If a
story takes place in a particular historical period, the lifestyle
of the characters (e.g., whether they are poor farmers or
residents of the court) is part of the setting.
2. Atmosphere: The mood or feeling of the story, the emotional
quality that the story gives to the reader. This is usually evoked by
the setting and, like the setting, may change throughout the novel.
You may say that a novel opens with a mysterious atmosphere, a
gloomy atmosphere, a light, carefree atmosphere, etc.
3. Characters: the people, animal, robots, etc., who take part in the
action of the story.
4. Conflict: the struggle between opposing forces in the story. Conflict
provides interest and suspense. There are various types of conflict,
which can usually be categorized as one of the following:
(a) a character struggling against nature
(b) a struggle between two or more characters
(c) a struggle between the main character and some aspect of
society

42
 (d) a struggle of opposing forces within one character
The reader usually follows the actions of one main character
throughout the novel; this character is referred to as the
protagonist. The force with which the protagonist is in conflict
is called the antagonist. In the case of the fourth type of
conflict listed, the antagonist would be another internal force
within the protagonist, e.g., self-doubt.
5. Plot: The storyline; the ordered arrangement of incidents in a story.
Plot arises out of the conflict in the story, which builds to a climax.
Some terms to keep in mind based on Kristin Scott (/http:www.
kristinscott.net/):
Elements of Plot:  
Exposition: Everything that a reader needs to know to understand
the story: the setting/scene, the characters, and any background
information that will be essential to know what is going on in the
story and/or the main situation that leads to the conflict. 
Conflict: The conflict (or main problem) of a story exists when a
struggle occurs between two opposing forces or characters (for
example: a huge clash between an alien and a robot; the main
character and another person; or the main character struggles with
an oncoming hurricane that is threatening to destroy his/her entire
town, or a main character’s struggle with his/her loss of identity,
etc.). This conflict can be either external (some force outside of the
protagonist or main character) or internal (some force that creates a
problem from “within,” typically of a psychological, spiritual, or
physical nature). In a story, there may be many conflicts, but there is
typically one major or main conflict that drives the story. 
Crisis: The crisis is the turning point in the story, the point at
which a huge decision must be made, an action must be taken, or
something must be understood or realized... or else! (But not
always by the protagonist). This is typically the moment in which
the suspense is heightened and the reader is lead into the climax. 
Climax: This is the point of highest interest and/or suspense in a

43
story, where the reader feels that whatever happens next is going
to lead to the conclusion of the story. If it’s a well-written story,
and you were to stop reading right at the height of the climax, it
would probably feel like someone’s just pushed the pause button
on the DVD – just as five cars and a tractor-trailer have all started
skidding and spinning on a very busy, but icy, highway. You can
see the possibility for complete and total disaster: everyone snakes
and coils around one other for a terrifying, on-the-edge-of-your-
couch-with-your-mouth-hanging-open, five seconds . . . AND
THEN . . . 

Falling action
Or, it can be as quiet and as subtle as someone who slowly and
softly sits down on a staircase and puts her head in her hands. She
doesn’t say a word, she doesn’t drop a tear, nor does she breathe a
sigh, but you feel the grinding, spinning, twisting, and grating going
on in your stomach – if it’s a really good story. Because you know
, from the way the story has been delivered up to this point, that
THIS is the crucial, climactic moment... the moment at which this
seemingly calm, subdued person with her head in her hands is
struggling with an inner turmoil, pain, sadness, and/or rage that is
about to burst if not resolved, and she’s either about to make some
very big decision, achieve an incredible insight, take some final
action, or be the recipient of any of the above that will, for once
and for all, determine the way the story ends. 
Resolution / Denouement - French for the untangling of a knot:
This is the point at which the story has finally reached some
conclusion . The conclusion isn’t always a satisfactory one, but
whatever it is, it resolves the original conflict; for better or for
worse, the “problem” has come to its conclusion, even if that means
that a new one has begun. In many cases, the original problem is
resolved, answered, fixed or the struggle has ended, but not
always. Sometimes, the problem that the major character has been

44
 struggling against concludes, but leads to yet another whole issue
or problem (which is either then left up to the reader’s imagination
or dealt with in a “sequel” story). 

Plot Techniques: 
Foreshadowing: clues within the story that hint to later events. 
Flashbacks: interrupting a chronological sequence within a
narrative to present a moment or a scene from a past. This can
happen in a number of ways: as a dream the character is having, a
scene that is played while the character or narrator talks over it, a
sudden/quick “flash” of moments, as if the character is having light
bulb flash-like visions of memories (or perceived memories). 
Flashforwards: a combination of foreshadowing and flashbacks,
except these present “potential” moments or scenes from the future
that the character/s can then potentially avoid or use to their
advantage to navigate their way through their conflict. Similarly,
these also often happen as dreams or “flashes” of visual moments,
etc, but represent the future, not the past. They can, however,
sometimes confuse whoever visualizes these flashforwards into
thinking they are seeing the past, rather than the future. 
Situational Irony: letting readers think that a situation is heading
in one direction when it’s not (a surprising and often strange twist
typically occurs just when the reader believes they feel they know
what’s going to happen next or “who did it” or how the story is
going to end). 
Structuring Devices: significant images, words, or events that
are woven throughout a story and thus become a huge part of the
story’s structure. For example, the color red, or the repeated use
of an open door, or a repeated word, phrase, or song (like the song
in Halloween , 1978, with Jamie Lee Curtis).
6. Theme: the central idea in the story or novel. It can usually be
expressed in a short statement about human nature, life, or the
universe.

45
6.3 KINDS OF PROSE FICTION
a. Short Story
A short story is a narrative prose work which is short enough to be
read in one sitting, and is usually published in a magazine or
anthology. Stylistically, the short story must make every word count
and a short story writer has to be aware of inconsistencies in style, in
tone and point of view. Guy de Maupassant’s Necklace is a good
example of short story. Observe the story:

The Necklace
Guy de Maupassant

She was one of those 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 married 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 though
she had married beneath her; for women have no caste or class, their beauty,
grace, and charm serving them for birth or family, their natural delicacy, their
instinctive elegance, their nimbleness of wit, are their only mark of rank, and
put the slum girl on a level with the highest lady in the land.
She suffered endlessly, feeling herself born 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-broken regrets and hopeless dreams in her mind. She imagined silent

46
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 of the stove. She imagined vast saloons hung
with antique silks, exquisite pieces of furniture supporting priceless ornaments,
and small, charming, perfumed rooms, created just for 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 the cover off the
soup-tureen, exclaiming delightedly:
“Aha! Scotch broth! 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 marvelous 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 whom 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 husband came home with an exultant air, holding a large
envelope in his hand.
“Here’s something for you,” he said.
Swiftly she tore the paper and drew out a printed card on which were
these words:
“The Minister of Education and Madame Ramponneau request the
pleasure of the company of Monsieur and Madame Loisel at the Ministry on
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 pleased. You never go out, and this is a
great occasion. I had tremendous trouble to get it. Everyone wants one; it’s
very select, and very few go to the clerks. You’ll see all the really big people
there.”
She looked at him out of furious eyes, and said impatiently: “And what
do you suppose I am to wear at such an affair?”
He had not thought about it; he stammered:
“Why, the dress you go to the theatre in. It looks very nice, to me...”

47
 He stopped, stupefied and utterly at a loss when he saw that his wife was
beginning to cry. Two large tears ran slowly down from the corners of her
eyes towards 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 a calm
voice, wiping her wet cheeks:
“Nothing. Only I haven’t a dress and so I can’t go to this party. Give your
invitation to some friend of yours whose wife will be turned out better than
I shall.”
He was heart-broken.
“Look here, Mathilde,” he persisted. “What would be the cost of a
suitable dress, which you could use on other occasions as well, something very
simple?”
She thought for several seconds, reckoning up prices and also wondering
for how large a sum she could ask without bringing upon herself an immediate
refusal and an exclamation of horror from the careful-minded clerk.
At last she replied with some hesitation:
“I don’t know exactly, but I think I could do it on four hundred francs.”
He grew slightly pale, for this was exactly the amount he had been saving
for a gun, intending to get a little shooting next summer on the plain of
Nanterre with some friends who went lark-shooting there on Sundays.
Nevertheless he said: “Very well. I’ll give you four hundred francs. But try
and get a really nice dress with the money.”
The day of the party drew near, and Madame Loisel seemed sad, uneasy
and anxious. Her dress was ready, however. One evening her husband said 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 no one. 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 three gorgeous roses.”
She was not convinced.
“No... there’s nothing so humiliating as looking poor in the middle of a
lot of rich women.”
“How stupid you are!” exclaimed her husband. “Go and see Madame
Forestier and ask her to lend you some jewels. You know her quite well enough
for that.”
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 Forestier went to her dressing-table, took up a large box, brought

48
it to Madame Loisel, opened it, and said:
“Choose, my dear.”
First she saw some bracelets, then a pearl necklace, 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 like best.”
Suddenly she discovered, in a black satin case, a superb diamond
necklace; her heart began to beat covetously. Her hands trembled as she lifted
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 to waltz 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 the pride of her success, in a cloud of
happiness made up of this universal homage and admiration, of the desires 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 clothes,
whose poverty clashed with the beauty of the ball-dress. She was conscious
of this and was anxious to hurry away, so that she should not be noticed by
the other women putting on their costly furs.
Loisel restrained her.
“Wait a little. You’ll catch cold in the open. I’m going to fetch a cab.”
But she did not listen to him and rapidly descended the staircase. When
they were out in the street they could not find a cab; they began to look for
one, shouting at the drivers whom they saw passing in the distance.
They walked down towards the Seine, desperate and shivering. At last
they found on the quay one of those old night prowling carriages which are
only to be seen in Paris after dark, as though they were ashamed of their
shabbiness in the daylight.

49
 It brought them to their door in the Rue des Martyrs, and sadly they
walked up to their own apartment. It was the end, for her. As for him, he was
thinking that he must be at the office at ten.
She took off the garments in which she had wrapped her shoulders, so
as to see herself in all her glory before the mirror. But suddenly she uttered a
cry. The necklace was no longer round her neck!
“What’s the matter with you?” asked her husband, 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!”
They searched in the folds of her dress, in the folds of the coat, in the
pockets, everywhere. They could not find it.
“Are you sure that you still had it on when you came away from the ball?”
he asked.
“Yes, I touched it in the hall at the Ministry.”
“But if you had lost it in the street, we should have heard it fall.”
“Yes. Probably we should. Did you take the number of the cab?”
“No. You didn’t notice it, did you?”
“No.”
They stared at one another, dumbfounded. At last Loisel put on his clothes
again.
“I’ll go over all the ground we walked,” he said, “and see if I can’t find it.”
And he went out. She remained in her evening clothes, lacking strength to
get into bed, huddled on a chair, without volition or power of thought.
Her husband returned about seven. He had found nothing.
He went to the police station, to the newspapers, to offer a reward, to
the cab companies, everywhere that a ray of hope impelled him.
She waited all day long, in the same state of bewilderment at this fearful
catastrophe.
Loisel came home at night, his face lined and pale; he had discovered
nothing.
“You must write to your friend,” he said, “and tell her that you’ve broken
the clasp of her necklace and are getting it mended. That will give us time to
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 necklace and went to the

50
jewellers whose name was inside. He consulted his books.
“It was not I who sold this necklace, Madame; I must have merely
supplied the clasp.”
Then they went from jeweler to jeweler, searching for another necklace
like the first, consulting their memories, both 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 the one they were looking for. It was worth forty
thousand francs. They were allowed to have it for thirty-six thousand.
They begged the jeweler not to sell it for three days. And they arranged
matters on the understanding that it would be taken back for thirty-four
thousand francs, if the first one were found before the end of February.
Loisel possessed 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
money-lenders. 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 black 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 the jeweller’s counter thirty-
six thousand francs.
When Madame Loisel took back the necklace to Madame Forestier, the
latter said to her in a chilly voice:
“You ought to have brought it back sooner; I 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 said?
Would she not have taken her for a thief ?
*
Madame Loisel came to know the ghastly life 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 garret under the roof.
She came to know the heavy work of the house, the hateful duties of the
kitchen. She washed the plates, wearing out her pink nails on the coarse pottery
and the bottoms of pans. She washed the dirty linen, the shirts and
dish-cloths, and hung them out to dry on a string; every morning she took the
dustbin down into the street and carried up the water, stopping on each landing
to get her breath. And, clad like a poor woman, she went to the fruitier, to the
grocer, to the butcher, a basket on her arm, haggling, insulted, fighting for

51
every wretched halfpenny of her money.
Every month notes had to be paid off, others renewed, time gained.
Her husband worked in the evenings at putting straight a merchant’s
accounts, and often at night he did copying at two pence-half penny a page.
And this life lasted ten years.
At the end of ten years everything was paid off, everything, the usurer’s
charges and the accumulation of superimposed interest.
Madame Loisel looked old now. She had become like all the 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 sometimes, 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 if she had never lost those jewels? Who
knows? Who knows? How strange life is, how fickle! How little is needed to
ruin or to save!
One Sunday, as she had gone for a walk along the Champs-Elysees to
freshen herself 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 that 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 famil-
iarly addressed by a poor woman.
“But . . . Madame . . .” she stammered. “I don’t know . . . you must be
making a mistake.”
“No . . . I am Mathilde Loisel.”
Her friend uttered a cry.
“Oh! . . . my poor Mathilde, how you have changed! . . .”
“Yes, I’ve had some hard times since I saw you last; and many sorrows .
. . and all on your account.”
“On my account! . . . How was that?”
“You remember the diamond necklace you lent me for the ball at the
Ministry?”
“Yes. Well?”
“Well, I lost it.”
“How could you? Why, you brought it back.”
“I brought you another one just like it. And for the last ten years we have

52
been paying for it. You realize it wasn’t easy for us; we had no money. . . . Well,
it’s paid for at last, and I’m glad indeed.”
Madame Forestier had halted.
“You say you bought a diamond necklace to replace mine?”
“Yes. You hadn’t noticed it? They were very much alike.”
And she smiled in proud and innocent happiness.
Madame Forestier, deeply moved, took her two hands.
“Oh, my poor Mathilde! But mine was imitation. It was worth at the very
most five hundred francs! . . .”
http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/Neck.shtml

b. Novel
A novel is a prose narrative work which is long enough to be printed
as an entire book. The novel is usually divided into smaller portions,
called chapters. The full length of novel may consist of over 100.000
words. Different from short story, novel has more incidents, scenes,
setting and take longer time, even the change of characters’ life. In A
Handbook of Literature, Hibbard and Thrall define novel as a term
used in its broadest sense to designate any extended fictional prose
narrative. They then add that English novel is essentially an eighteenth
century product. The novel writers that time were Defoe with his
Robinson Crusoe (1719) and Moll Flanders (1722), Swift with his Gulliver’s
Travel using satiric allegory. Then in nineteenth century, novel was as
an instrument of portraying a middle-class society. Jane Austen
produced Novels of Manners, Scott wrote the historical Novel, Hardy,
Elliot and Dickens also appeared A shorter novel, but longer than
short story is called novelette. In the twentieth century, English novel
has probed more and more into the human mind.
Hibbard and Thrall classify novel based on the subject matter.
They are: (1) detective novel, (2) psychological novel, (3) sociological
novel, (3) sentimental novel, (4) propaganda novel, (5) historical novel,
(6) novel of manners, (7) novel of character, (8) novel of incident, (9)
novel of the soil, (10) regional novel, (11) picaresque novel, (12) gothic
novel, (13) stream of consciousness novel, (14) problem novel, and
epistolary novel.

53
PRACTICE
1. Read The Necklace and answer the following questions:
a. Describe the character of Mathilde!
b. What sort of person is Loisel? How does this character
contribute to the financial disaster?
c. How is the relationship between Loisel and Mathilde?
d. What lesson you can get from the story?
2. Find in internet a short story in nineteenth century and discuss its
elements with your partner!

54
 CHAPTER VII
DRAMA

Drama based on Professor Schelling (Hibbard and Thrall, 1988) is

a picture or representation of human life in that succession and change
of events that we call story, told by means of dialogue and presenting
in action the successive emotions involved. It means pantomime is
included. Next, Professor J.M. Manly states three elements drama should
have: (1) a story, (2) told in action, and (3) by actors who impersonate
the characters of the story.
In a Handbook of Literature, it is stated that drama arose from
religious ceremonial. Greek Tragedy came from Dionsyan rites dealing
with life and death. Then comedy came up with satire in it. The Greek
authors of tragedies were Aeschylus and Sophocles. We have known
the development of drama from middle ages until twentieth century.
Each period has popular authors. Of course, each of it gives different
focus.
George Bernard Shaw is an Irish dramatist, literary critic, a socialist
spokesman, and a leading figure in the 20th century theater. Bernard
Shaw was a freethinker, defender of women’s rights, and advocate of
equality of income. In 1925 he was awarded the Nobel Prize for
Literature. Shaw accepted the honour but refused the money.

55
 The fundamental technical structure of drama is conflict. It is then
elaborated into: introduction, rising action, climax or crisis, falling
action, or resolution.

PRACTICE
Read the following drama and answer the questions!

Pygmalion
(A play by George Bernard Shaw)

NARRATOR: Restless shifting

ACT I
Covent Garden at 11.15 p.m. Torrents of heavy summer rain. Cab whistles
blowing frantically in all directions. Pedestrians running for shelter into the
market and under the portico of St. Paul’s Church, where there are already
several people, among them a lady and her daughter in evening dress. They
are all peering out gloomily at the rain, except one man with his back turned
to the rest, who seems wholly preoccupied with a notebook in which he is
writing busily.
The church clock strikes the first quarter.
THE DAUGHTER [in the space between the central pillars, close to the one
on her left] I’m getting chilled to the bone. What can Freddy be doing all

56
 this time? He’s been gone twenty minutes.
THE MOTHER [on her daughter’s right] Not so long. But he ought to have
got us a cab by this.
A BYSTANDER [on the lady’s right] He won’t get no cab not until half-past
eleven, Missus, when they come back after dropping their theatre fares.
THE MOTHER. But we must have a cab. We can’t stand here until half-past
eleven. It’s too bad.
THE BYSTANDER. Well, it ain’t my fault, missus.
THE DAUGHTER. If Freddy had a bit of gumption, he would have got
one at the theatre door.
THE MOTHER. What could he have done, poor boy?
THE DAUGHTER. Other people got cabs. Why couldn’t he?
Freddy rushes in out of the rain from the Southampton Street side, and
comes between them closing a dripping umbrella. He is a young man of
twenty, in evening dress, very wet around the ankles.
THE DAUGHTER. Well, haven’t you got a cab?
FREDDY. There’s not one to be had for love or money.
THE MOTHER. Oh, Freddy, there must be one. You can’t have tried.
THE DAUGHTER. It’s too tiresome. Do you expect us to go and get one
ourselves?
FREDDY. I tell you they’re all engaged. The rain was so sudden: nobody was
prepared; and everybody had to take a cab. I’ve been to Charing Cross
one way and nearly to Ludgate Circus the other; and they were all engaged.
THE MOTHER. Did you try Trafalgar Square?
FREDDY. There wasn’t one at Trafalgar Square.
THE DAUGHTER. Did you try?
FREDDY. I tried as far as Charing Cross Station. Did you expect me to walk
to Hammersmith?
THE DAUGHTER. You haven’t tried at all.
THE MOTHER. You really are very helpless, Freddy. Go again; and don’t
come back until you have found a cab.
FREDDY. I shall simply get soaked for nothing.
THE DAUGHTER. And what about us? Are we to stay here all night in this
draught, with next to nothing on. You selfish pig—
FREDDY. Oh, very well: I’ll go, I’ll go. [He opens his umbrella and dashes
off Strandwards, but comes into collision with a flower girl, who is
hurrying in for shelter, knocking her basket out of her hands. A blinding
flash of lightning, followed instantly by a rattling peal of thunder,
orchestrates the incident]
THE FLOWER GIRL. Nah then, Freddy: look wh’ y’ gowin, deah.
FREDDY. Sorry [he rushes off].

57
THE FLOWER GIRL [picking up her scattered flowers and replacing them
in the basket] There’s menners f ’ yer! Te-oo banches o voylets trod into
the mad. [She sits down on the plinth of the column, sorting her flowers,
on the lady’s right. She is not at all an attractive person. She is perhaps
eighteen, perhaps twenty, hardly older. She wears a little sailor hat of
black straw that has long been exposed to the dust and soot of London
and has seldom if ever been brushed. Her hair needs washing rather
badly: its mousy color can hardly be natural. She wears a shoddy black
coat that reaches nearly to her knees and is shaped to her waist. She has a
brown skirt with a coarse apron. Her boots are much the worse for
wear. She is no doubt as clean as she can afford to be; but compared to
the ladies she is very dirty. Her features are no worse than theirs; but their
condition leaves something to be desired; and she needs the services of a
dentist].
THE MOTHER. How do you know that my son’s name is Freddy, pray?
THE FLOWER GIRL. Ow, eez ye-ooa san, is e? Wal, fewd dan y’ de-ooty
bawmz a mather should, eed now bettern to spawl a pore gel’s flahrzn
than ran awy atbaht pyin. Will ye-oo py me f ’them? [Here, with pologies,
this desperate attempt to represent her dialect without a phonetic alphabet
must be abandoned as unintelligible outside London.]
THE DAUGHTER. Do nothing of the sort, mother. The idea!
THE MOTHER. Please allow me, Clara. Have you any pennies?
THE DAUGHTER. No. I’ve nothing smaller than sixpence.
THE FLOWER GIRL [hopefully] I can give you change for a tanner, kind
lady.
THE MOTHER [to Clara] Give it to me. [Clara parts reluctantly]. Now [to
the girl] This is for your flowers.
THE FLOWER GIRL. Thank you kindly, lady.
THE DAUGHTER. Make her give you the change. These things are only a
penny a bunch.
THE MOTHER. Do hold your tongue, Clara. [To the girl]. You can keep the
change.
THE FLOWER GIRL. Oh, thank you, lady.
THE MOTHER. Now tell me how you know that young gentleman’s name.
THE FLOWER GIRL. I didn’t.
THE MOTHER. I heard you call him by it. Don’t try to deceive me.
THE FLOWER GIRL [protesting] Who’s trying to deceive you? I called him
Freddy or Charlie same as you might yourself if you was talking to a
stranger and wished to be pleasant. [She sits down beside her basket].
THE DAUGHTER. Sixpence thrown away! Really, mamma, you might have
spared Freddy that. [She retreats in disgust behind the pillar].

58
An elderly gentleman of the amiable military type rushes into shelter, and
closes a dripping umbrella. He is in the same plight as Freddy, very wet
about the ankles. He is in evening dress, with a light overcoat. He takes the
place left vacant by the daughter’s retirement.
THE GENTLEMAN. Phew!
THE MOTHER [to the gentleman] Oh, sir, is there any sign of its
stopping?
THE GENTLEMAN. I’m afraid not. It started worse than ever about two
minutes ago. [He goes to the plinth beside the flower girl; puts up his foot
on it; and stoops to turn down his trouser ends].
THE MOTHER. Oh, dear! [She retires sadly and joins her daughter].
THE FLOWER GIRL [taking advantage of the military gentleman’s proximity
to establish friendly relations with him]. If it’s worse it’s a sign it’s nearly
over. So cheer up, Captain; and buy a flower off a poor girl.
THE GENTLEMAN. I’m sorry, I haven’t any change.
THE FLOWER GIRL. I can give you change, Captain,
THE GENTLEMEN. For a sovereign? I’ve nothing less.
THE FLOWER GIRL. Garn! Oh do buy a flower off me, Captain. I can
change half-a-crown. Take this for tuppence.
THE GENTLEMAN. Now don’t be troublesome: there’s a good girl. [Trying
his pockets] I really haven’t any change—Stop: here’s three hapence, if
that’s any use to you [he retreats to the other pillar].
THE FLOWER GIRL [disappointed, but thinking three halfpence better than
nothing] Thank you, sir.
THE BYSTANDER [to the girl] You be careful: give him a flower for it.
There’s a bloke here behind taking down every blessed word you’re saying.
[All turn to the man who is taking notes].
THE FLOWER GIRL [springing up terrified] I ain’t done nothing wrong by
speaking to the gentleman. I’ve a right to sell flowers if I keep off the
kerb. [Hysterically] I’m a respectable girl: so help me, I never spoke to
him except to ask him to buy a flower off me. [General hubbub, mostly
sympathetic to the flower girl, but deprecating her excessive sensibility.
Cries of Don’t start hollerin. Who’s hurting you? Nobody’s going to
touch you. What’s the good of fussing? Steady on. Easy, easy, etc., come
from the elderly staid spectators, who pat her comfortingly. Less patient
ones bid her shut her head, or ask her roughly what is wrong with her. A
remoter group, not knowing what the matter is, crowd in and increase
the noise with question and answer: What’s the row? What she do? Where
is he? A tec taking her down. What! him? Yes:
him over there: Took money off the gentleman, etc. The flower
girl, distraught and mobbed, breaks through them to the gentleman,

59
 crying mildly] Oh, sir, don’t let him charge me. You dunno what it means
to me. They’ll take away my character and drive me on the streets for
speaking to gentlemen. They—
THE NOTE TAKER [coming forward on her right, the rest crowding after
him] There, there, there, there! Who’s hurting you, you silly girl? What do
you take me for?
THE BYSTANDER. It’s all right: he’s a gentleman: look at his boots. [Explaining
to the note taker] She thought you was a copper’s nark, sir.
THE NOTE TAKER [with quick interest] What’s a copper’s nark?
THE BYSTANDER [inept at definition] It’s a—well, it’s a copper’s nark, as
you might say. What else would you call it? A sort of informer.
THE FLOWER GIRL [still hysterical] I take my Bible oath I never said a
word—
THE NOTE TAKER [overbearing but good-humored] Oh, shut up, shut
up. Do I look like a policeman?
THE FLOWER GIRL [far from reassured] Then what did you take down
my words for? How do I know whether you took me down right? You
just show me what you’ve wrote about me. [The note taker opens his
book and holds it steadily under her nose, though the pressure of the
mob trying to read it over his shoulders would upset a weaker man].
What’s that? That ain’t proper writing. I can’t read that.
THE NOTE TAKER. I can. [Reads, reproducing her pronunciation exactly]
“Cheer ap, Keptin; n’ haw ya flahr orf a pore gel.”
THE FLOWER GIRL [much distressed] It’s because I called him Captain. I
meant no harm. [To the gentleman] Oh, Sir, don’t let him lay a charge
agen me for a word like that. You—
THE GENTLEMAN. Charge! I make no charge. [To the note taker] Really,
Sir, if you are a detective, you need not begin protecting me against
molestation by young women until I ask you. Anybody could see that the
girl meant no harm.
THE BYSTANDERS GENERALLY [demonstrating against police
espionage] Course they could. What business is it of yours? You mind
your own affairs. He wants promotion, he does. Taking down people’s
words! Girl never said a word to him. What harm if she did? Nice thing
a girl can’t shelter from the rain without being insulted, etc., etc., etc. [She
is conducted by the more sympathetic demonstrators back to her plinth,
where she resumes her seat and struggles with her emotion].
THE BYSTANDER. He ain’t a tec. He’s a blooming busybody: that’s what
he is. I tell you, look at his boots.
THE NOTE TAKER [turning on him genially] And how are all your people
down at Selsey?

60
THE BYSTANDER [suspiciously] Who told you my people come from
Selsey?
THE NOTE TAKER. Never you mind. They did. [To the girl] How do you
come to be up so far east? You were born in Lisson Grove.
THE FLOWER GIRL [appalled] Oh, what harm is there in my leaving Lisson
Grove? It wasn’t fit for a pig to live in; and I had to pay four-and-six a
week. [In tears] Oh, boo—hoo—oo—
THE NOTE TAKER. Live where you like; but stop that noise.
THE GENTLEMAN [to the girl] Come, come! he can’t touch you: you have
a right to live where you please.
A SARCASTIC BYSTANDER [thrusting himself between the note taker
and the gentleman] Park Lane, for instance. I’d like to go into the Housing
Question with you, I would.
THE FLOWER GIRL [subsiding into a brooding melancholy over her basket,
and talking very low-spiritedly to herself] I’m a good girl, I am.
THE SARCASTIC BYSTANDER [not attending to her] Do you know where
_I_ come from?
THE NOTE TAKER [promptly] Hoxton.
Titterings. Popular interest in the note taker’s performance increases.
THE SARCASTIC ONE [amazed] Well, who said I didn’t? Bly me! You
know everything, you do.
THE FLOWER GIRL [still nursing her sense of injury] Ain’t no call to meddle
with me, he ain’t.
THE BYSTANDER [to her] Of course he ain’t. Don’t you stand it from
him. [To the note taker] See here: what call have you to know about
people what never offered to meddle with you? Where’s your warrant?
SEVERAL BYSTANDERS [encouraged by this seeming point of law] Yes:
where’s your warrant?
THE FLOWER GIRL. Let him say what he likes. I don’t want to have no
truck with him.
THE BYSTANDER. You take us for dirt under your feet, don’t you? Catch
you taking liberties with a gentleman!
THE SARCASTIC BYSTANDER. Yes: tell HIM where he come from if
you want to go fortune-telling.
THE NOTE TAKER. Cheltenham, Harrow, Cambridge, and India.
THE GENTLEMAN. Quite right. [Great laughter. Reaction in the note taker’s
favor. Exclamations of He knows all about it. Told him proper. Hear
him tell the toff where he come from? etc.]. May I ask, sir, do you do this
for your living at a music hall?
THE NOTE TAKER. I’ve thought of that. Perhaps I shall some day.
The rain has stopped; and the persons on the outside of the crowd

61
 begin to drop off.
THE FLOWER GIRL [resenting the reaction] He’s no gentleman, he ain’t, to
interfere with a poor girl.
THE DAUGHTER [out of patience, pushing her way rudely to the front and
displacing the gentleman, who politely retires to the other side of the
pillar] What on earth is Freddy doing? I shall get pneumonia if I stay in
this draught any longer.
THE NOTE TAKER [to himself, hastily making a note of her pronunciation
of “monia”] Earlscourt.
THE DAUGHTER [violently] Will you please keep your impertinent remarks
to yourself ?
THE NOTE TAKER. Did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean to. I beg your
pardon. Your mother’s Epsom, unmistakeably.
THE MOTHER [advancing between her daughter and the note taker] How
very curious! I was brought up in Largelady Park, near Epsom.
THE NOTE TAKER [uproariously amused] Ha! ha! What a devil of a name!
Excuse me. [To the daughter] You want a cab, do you?
THE DAUGHTER. Don’t dare speak to me.
THE MOTHER. Oh, please, please Clara. [Her daughter repudiates her with
an angry shrug and retires haughtily.] We should be so grateful to you, sir,
if you found us a cab. [The note taker produces a whistle]. Oh, thank
you. [She joins her daughter]. The note taker blows a piercing blast.
THE SARCASTIC BYSTANDER. There! I knowed he was a plain-clothes
copper.
THE BYSTANDER. That ain’t a police whistle: that’s a sporting whistle.
THE FLOWER GIRL [still preoccupied with her wounded feelings] He’s no
right to take away my character. My character is the same to me as any
lady’s.
THE NOTE TAKER. I don’t know whether you’ve noticed it; but the rain
stopped about two minutes ago.
THE BYSTANDER. So it has. Why didn’t you say so before? and us losing
our time listening to your silliness. [He walks off towards the Strand].
THE SARCASTIC BYSTANDER. I can tell where you come from. You
come from Anwell. Go back there.
THE NOTE TAKER [helpfully] _H_anwell.
THE SARCASTIC BYSTANDER [affecting great distinction of speech] Thenk
you, teacher. Haw haw! So long [he touches his hat with mock respect
and strolls off].
THE FLOWER GIRL. Frightening people like that! How would he like it
himself.
THE MOTHER. It’s quite fine now, Clara. We can walk to a motor bus.

62
 Come. [She gathers her skirts above her ankles and hurries off towards
the Strand].
THE DAUGHTER. But the cab—[her mother is out of hearing]. Oh, how
tiresome! [She follows angrily]. All the rest have gone except the note
taker, the gentleman, and the flower girl, who sits arranging her basket,
and still pitying herself in murmurs.
THE FLOWER GIRL. Poor girl! Hard enough for her to live without being
worrited and chivied. THE GENTLEMAN [returning to his former
place on the note taker’s left] How do you do it, if I may ask?
THE NOTE TAKER. Simply phonetics. The science of speech. That’s my
profession; also my hobby. Happy is the man who can make a living by
his hobby! You can spot an Irishman or a Yorkshireman by his brogue. I
can place any man within six miles. I can place him within two miles in
London. Sometimes within two streets.
THE FLOWER GIRL. Ought to be ashamed of himself, unmanly coward!
THE GENTLEMAN. But is there a living in that?
THE NOTE TAKER. Oh yes. Quite a fat one. This is an age of upstarts.
Men begin in Kentish Town with 80 pounds a year, and end in Park Lane
with a hundred thousand. They want to drop Kentish Town; but they
give themselves away every time they open their mouths. Now I can
teach them—
THE FLOWER GIRL. Let him mind his own business and leave a poor
girl—
THE NOTE TAKER [explosively] Woman: cease this detestable boohooing
instantly; or else seek the shelter of some other place of worship.
THE FLOWER GIRL [with feeble defiance] I’ve a right to be here if I like,
same as you.
THE NOTE TAKER. A woman who utters such depressing and disgusting
sounds has no right to be anywhere—no right to live. Remember that
you are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech:
that your native language is the language of Shakespear and Milton and
The Bible; and don’t sit there crooning like a bilious pigeon.
THE FLOWER GIRL [quite overwhelmed, and looking up at him in mingled
wonder and deprecation without daring to raise her head] Ah—ah—
ah—ow—ow—oo!
THE NOTE TAKER [whipping out his book] Heavens! what a sound! [He
writes; then holds out the book and reads, reproducing her vowels exactly]
Ah—ah—ah—ow—ow—ow—oo!
THE FLOWER GIRL [tickled by the performance, and laughing in spite of
herself] Garn!
THE NOTE TAKER. You see this creature with her kerbstone English:

63
 the English that will keep her in the gutter to the end of her days. Well, sir,
in three months I could pass that girl off as a duchess at an ambassador’s
garden party. I could even get her a place as lady’s maid or shop assistant,
which requires better English. That’s the sort of thing I do for commercial
millionaires. And on the profits of it I do genuine scientific work in
phonetics, and a little as a poet on Miltonic lines.
THE GENTLEMAN. I am myself a student of Indian dialects; and—
THE NOTE TAKER [eagerly] Are you? Do you know Colonel Pickering,
the author of Spoken Sanscrit?
THE GENTLEMAN. I am Colonel Pickering. Who are you?
THE NOTE TAKER. Henry Higgins, author of Higgins’s Universal Alphabet.
PICKERING [with enthusiasm] I came from India to meet you.
HIGGINS. I was going to India to meet you.
PICKERING. Where do you live?
HIGGINS. 27A Wimpole Street. Come and see me tomorrow.
PICKERING. I’m at the Carlton. Come with me now and let’s have a jaw
over some supper.
HIGGINS. Right you are.
THE FLOWER GIRL [to Pickering, as he passes her] Buy a flower, kind
gentleman. I’m short for my lodging.
PICKERING. I really haven’t any change. I’m sorry [he goes away].
HIGGINS [shocked at girl’s mendacity] Liar. You said you could change half-
a-crown.
THE FLOWER GIRL [rising in desperation] You ought to be stuffed with
nails, you ought. [Flinging the basket at his feet] Take the whole blooming
basket for sixpence.
The church clock strikes the second quarter.
HIGGINS [hearing in it the voice of God, rebuking him for his Pharisaic
want of charity to the poor girl] A reminder. [He raises his hat solemnly;
then throws a handful of money into the basket and follows Pickering].
THE FLOWER GIRL [picking up a half-crown] Ah—ow—ooh! [Picking
up a couple of florins] Aaah—ow—ooh! [Picking up several coins]
Aaaaaah—ow—ooh! [Picking up a half-sovereign] Aasaaaaaaaaah—
ow—ooh!!!
FREDDY[springing out of a taxicab] Got one at last. Hallo! [To the girl]
Where are the two ladies that were here?
THE FLOWER GIRL. They walked to the bus when the rain stopped.
FREDDY. And left me with a cab on my hands. Damnation!
THE FLOWER GIRL [with grandeur] Never you mind, young man. I’m
going home in a taxi. [She sails off to the cab. The driver puts his hand
behind him and holds the door firmly shut against her. Quite understanding

64
 his mistrust, she shows him her handful of money]. Eightpence ain’t no
object to me, Charlie. [He grins and opens the door]. Angel Court, Drury
Lane, round the corner of Micklejohn’s oil shop. Let’s see how fast you
can make her hop it. [She gets in and pulls the door to with a slam as the
taxicab starts].
FREDDY. Well, I’m dashed!

QUESTIONS
1. Write the characters of Pygmalion act 1 and describe them!
2. What character do you like best? Why?
3. What kind of drama is that?

65
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Goodfellow, William W., and Laurence Kirkpatrick. 1968. Poetry With

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Hibbard, Addison, and William F. Thrall. 1960. A Handbook to Literature.
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Haryanti, Rahayu Puji. 2004. Introduction to Literary Studies. Semarang:
UNNES Press.
Koesnosoebroto, S.B. 1988. The Anatomy of Prose Fiction. Jakarta:
Depdikbud.
Lukman, E. I. 2002. Headlight. Jakarta: Erlangga.
Thornley, Robert and Gwyneth Roberts. 19.. . An Outline of English
Literature. Longman.
Kristin Scott. 2004. Elements of Plot. /http:www.kristinscott.net/.
Downloaded on January 2009
Madhavi Ghare. Elements of Poetry. /http://www.buzzle.com/authors/
. Downloaded on January 2009.
The Necklace. http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/
Neck. shtml. Downloaded on January 2009.
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