Benton dived.

He came straight and sure,

the way he had flown so many times in the
air. Now every minute that he had hurtled
about the warm blackness of the atmosphere Stability
of the City of Lightness came back to help Preserve
Free-will
him. The Controller, who had always been too Illusion of control
busy with his work, always too piled up ahead Ironic
Setting himself free
to enjoy the airsports that the City was so
Enslavement
proud of, went down at once. The globe Imagined
bounced out of his hands and rolled across
the room. Benton untangled himself and
leaped up. As he raced after the small shiny
sphere, he caught a glimpse of the
frightened, bewildered faces of the Members,
of the Controller attempting to get to his feet,
face contorted with pain and horror.

The globe was calling to him, whispering to

him. Benton stepped swiftly toward it, and
felt a rising whisper of victory and then a
scream of joy as his foot crushed the glass
that imprisoned it.

The globe broke with a loud popping sound.

Actions
For a time it lay there, then a mist began to Climactic
rise from it. Benton returned to the couch and Changed
Him, society
sat down. The mist began to fill the room. It
City of lightness
grew and grew, it seemed almost like a living Inconsiderate
thing, so strangely did it shift and turn. Naivete
Mechanical
Scientist
Benton began to drift into sleep. The mist Thinking individual
crowded about him, curling over his legs, up Creativity
to his chest, and finally milled about his face. Dictatorial
Stability
He sat there, slumped over on the couch, his Threatened
eyes closed, letting the strange, aged Live content
fragrance envelop him. Cannot improve
Cannot change
Title:
Then he heard the voices. Tiny and far Benton
away at first, the whisper of the globe Vehicle for change
Not Positive
multiplied countless times. A concert of Tone: celebratory
whispering voices rose from the broken globe Unleashed into the
in a swelling crescendo of exultation. Joy of world
Pandora’s box
victory! He saw the tiny miniature city within The globe
 the globe waver and fade, then change in size
and shape. He could hear it now as well as
see it. The steady throbbing of the machinery
like a gigantic drum. The shaking and
quivering of squat metal beings.

These beings were tended. He saw the

slaves, sweating, stooped, pale men, twisting The victory is on the
in their efforts to keep the roaring furnaces of side of the evil
A pair of wings Unconventional
Symbol of freedom steel and power happy. It seemed to swell Fairy tales
Being able to fly before his eyes until the entire room was full Modernism
Man’s desire
Conquer
of it, and the sweating workmen brushed Existentialism
Defeat
Freedom against him and around him. He was Worthy
--> forgot deafened by the raging power, the grinding Resounding doom
Never got them back
Factory workers
wheels and gears and valves. Something was
Foreshadowing pushing against him, compelling him to move
Allusion
Like one of them forward, forward to the City, and the mist Imagery
gleefully echoed the new, victorious sounds of Bell
the freed ones. THT
By a bell
Controlled
When the sun came up he was already Force power
awake. The rising bell rang, but Benton had Military
Orders
left his sleeping-cube some time before. As Think
he fell in with the marching ranks of his Consequences
companions, he thought he recognized punishment
Beginning
familiar faces for an instant -- men he had He could just “fly”
known someplace before. But at once the Go back to his house
memory passed. As they marched toward the Space, “think”
Books
waiting machines, chanting the tuneless Encouraged to think
sounds their ancestors had chanted for Creativity
centuries, and the weight of his bonus if the Submit the plan
Influenced
Machines saw fit -- For had he not been Voice
tending his machine faithfully? Time machine
Transcend
Ambiguity
Self-will
Mind controlled
Setting:
Dystopian
Future
Oppressive power
Stability, destruct suicide
Bleak
No escape
Comparison
 Fell sick, aged significantly, loved
Bridge mother-son
Mom began to mime things if she needed to let me know something. She tried
to hug me the way she saw American mothers do on TV. I thought her movements
Tone: exaggerated, uncertain, ridiculous, graceless. She saw that I was annoyed, and Themes:
First person stopped. Techniques:
Condescending Stereotype
“You shouldn’t treat your mother that way,” Dad said. But he couldn’t look
Refused Racial
me in the eyes as he said it. Deep in his heart, he must have realised that it was a discrimination
Inflicting
Guilt regret mistake to have tried to take a Chinese peasant girl and expect her to fit in the suburbs Rejection
Ending of Connecticut. Sense of
Arrogance Mom learned to cook American style. I played video games and studied identity and
Disgusted by French. belonging
Jack’s actions Every once in a while, I would see her at the kitchen table studying the plain Imagery
Dif side of a sheet of wrapping paper. Later a new paper animal would appear on my Distant
Western Jack’s POV
nightstand and try to cuddle up to me. I caught them, squeezed them until the air went
Eastern Mother
Filial piety
out of them, and then stuffed them away in the box in the attic. Tried effort
Children Mom finally stopped making the animals when I was in high school. By then Rship
Hit her English was much better, but I was already at that age when I wasn’t interested in Feeble attempt
Beaten what she had to say whatever language she used. Sometimes, when I came home and Never good
America saw her tiny body busily moving about in the kitchen, singing a song in Chinese to enough
parenting herself, it was hard for me to believe that she gave birth to me. We had nothing in Sacrifice
common. She might as well be from the Moon. I would hurry on to my room, where I
could continue my all-American pursuit of happiness.

Applications to the colleges American

Lacks “buy me” Rejection asian / chinese
compassion Applications strength Humiliating
Love, sacrifice Advertising uncultured
Selfish, criticising
American dream

Jack is presented with an intense, deep-rooted racial discrimination of his own

heritage which he uses to antagonise his mother. (widened gulf btw mother son,
irreparable stage).
Fight with Mark, older technology considered inferior.
Value, magical, breathe life into those animals

Title: paper menagerie,

Caged - symbolic, Jack’s mom, him, imprisoned, mindset, society’s imposition
Mom and Jack “imprisoned”
Jack - surroundings, fit in, look a certain, behave way, talk,
Rejected
Mom - taken away home country, foreign - hope, son, rejected, accepted
Animals Box
Immigrant, proud, celebrate - artistic talented, missed this opportunity, learning
skill, getting to know the mother and his roots

Modern realisation - readers

America - melting-pot, unique, special, GF
 Contrast to the ending, mood - uplifting, promise,
liberation, doom - trapped in the tower forever
Parallel - young wife

TRIUMPHANTLY CAROLINE LIFTED her finger from the fine italic type. There
was nothing to mar the success of this afternoon. Not only had she taken the car out
alone for the first time, driving unerringly on the right-hand side of the road, but what
she had achieved was not a simple drive but a cultural excursion. She had taken the
Italian guidebook Neville was always urging on her and hesitantly, haltingly, she had Laski presents
managed to piece out enough of the language to choose a route that took in four well Caroline in the
thought of frescoes, two universally admired campaniles, and one wooden crucifix in following
passage:
a village church quite a long way from the main road. It was not after all such a bad
Oppression of
thing that the British council meeting had kept Neville in Florence. True, he was women
certain to know all about the campaniles and the frescoes, but there was just a chance Pleasure,
that he hadn't discovered the crucifix and how gratifying if she could at last have Lack of
something of her own to contribute to his constantly accumulating horde of culture. knowledge
But could she still add more? There was at least another hour of daylight and it Inferior to her
wouldn't take more than 35 minutes to get back to the flat in Florence. Perhaps there husband
Condescending
would just be time to add this Tower to her dutiful collection. What was it called? She
Freedom
bent to the guidebook again carefully tracing the text with her finger to be sure she Release
was translating it correctly word by word. On her own
But this time her moving finger stopped abruptly at the name of Niccolo di explore
Ferramano. There had risen in her mind a picture. No — not a picture a portrait — of “voice”
a thin white face with deep-set black eyes that stared intently into hers. Why a What is actually
portrait? she asked and then she remembered. important
It had been about three months ago just after they were married when Neville had first Her own
opinion
brought her to Florence. He himself had already lived there for two years and during
that time had been at least as concerned to accumulate Tuscan culture for himself as
to disseminate English culture to the Italians. What more natural that he should wish
to share —perhaps to even show off — his discoveries to his young wife?
Caroline had come out to Italy with the idea that when she had worked through one or
two Galleries and made a few trips — say to Assisi and Sienna — she would have
done her duty as a British Council wife and could then settle down to examining the
Florentine shops, which everyone told her were too marvellous for words, but Neville
had been contemptuous of her programme. ‘You can see the stuff in the galleries at
anytime he had said but I'd like you to start with the pieces the ordinary tourist doesn't
see,’ and of course Caroline couldn't possibly let herself be classed as an ordinary
tourist.

Paragraphing
Structure
POV
3rd person
Has no voice
Horror story,
Eyes watching her
Indulgence
Reflect the stairs
Fragmented
Mid sentence
Anticipation, terror horror
Fragmented - panic, flustered
Crosses threshold

Violent imagery
Raw, gothic
 For the fact was, the school the Burnell children went to was not at all the kind
of place their parents would have chosen if there had been any choice. But there was
none. It was the only school for miles. And the consequence was all the children of
the neighbourhood, the Judge’s little girls, the doctor’s daughters, the store-keeper’s
children, the milkman’s, were forced to mix together. Not to speak of there being an
equal number of rude, rough little boys as well. But the line had to be drawn
somewhere. It was drawn at the Kelveys. Many of the children, including the
Burnells, were not allowed even to speak to them. They walked past the Kelveys with
their heads in the air, and as they set the fashion in all matters of behaviour, the
Kelveys were shunned by everybody. Even the teacher had a special voice for them,
and a special smile for the other children when Lil Kelvey came up to her desk with a
bunch of dreadfully common-looking flowers.
They were the daughters of a spry, hardworking little washerwoman, who
went about from house to house by the day. This was awful enough. But where was
Mr. Kelvey? Nobody knew for certain. But everybody said he was in prison. So they
were the daughters of a washerwoman and a gaolbird. Very nice company for other
people’s children! And they looked it. Why Mrs. Kelvey made them so conspicuous
was hard to understand. The truth was they were dressed in “bits” given to her by the
people for whom she worked. Lil, for instance, who was a stout, plain child, with big
freckles, came to school in a dress made from a green art-serge table-cloth of the
Burnells’, with red plush sleeves from the Logans’ curtains. Her hat, perched on top
of her high forehead, was a grown-up woman’s hat, once the property of Miss Lecky,
the postmistress. It was turned up at the back and trimmed with a large scarlet quill.
What a little guy she looked! It was impossible not to laugh. And her little sister, our
Else, wore a long white dress, rather like a nightgown, and a pair of little boy’s boots.
But whatever our Else wore she would have looked strange. She was a tiny wishbone
of a child, with cropped hair and enormous solemn eyes—a little white owl. Nobody
had ever seen her smile; she scarcely ever spoke. She went through life holding on to
Lil, with a piece of Lil’s skirt screwed up in her hand. Where Lil went, our Else
followed. In the playground, on the road going to and from school, there was Lil
marching in front and our Else holding on behind. Only when she wanted anything, or
when she was out of breath, our Else gave Lil a tug, a twitch, and Lil stopped and
turned round. The Kelveys never failed to understand each other.
Not steal
Old dresses
Portrayal of children Effort love
Clean-slates “new”
Innocence Materials
Corrupted Unique
Adults/ society Maternal
Reread essays
Discriminate Doll house
- sample
Symbols, stench Machine made
Comment and
Corruption Appreciation
Perpetuate Black Ball - (Rejected)
Poems
hatred victimised
Prose
Barry
Plays
Discriminating/ prejudiced
Genre
Boy
Draft,
Paragraphs Innocent, accustomed to the world that is
BP 123
Climactic harsh and difficult for blacks
Thematic, Unfairness, injustice in society
Techniques Educated - cast aside because of their colour
Significance
Textual Evidence (4) Union Man
Phrase topic sentences John, son’s future at stake
General specific Parallel, mirror, action - perpetuated
Hopeful,