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Reference book, The Norton Anthology world literature: volume 2 shorter third edition. No outside reference book other than the given reference book i give above. the first attached...

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Reference book, The Norton Anthology world literature: volume 2 shorter third edition.
No outside reference book other than the given reference book i give above
Creative Paper Criteria
Links to an external site.
Links to an external site.

Objective:
To demonstrate an intimate, critical understanding of authors and their texts as well as to argue a specific issue through the mouthpieces of others, with your “mouthpiece” (point of view) being predominant. And to do this all in a “creative story.”

Writing Assignment:
You will create a setting and use authors, historical figures, and/or characters from the “texts” you have read this semester in this class.

In literature we say “texts” as a general term. That can mean short stories, longer works, poems, and essays.

Think carefully about what “topic” will take place; this should help you make your list. Choose people (or characters) that will make the discourse interesting, lively, and—most importantly—thought–provoking. Don’t wo
y about anachronisms; for example, you can have Voltaire meet Allende even though it’s centuries later. You may want to choose Akhmatova, let’s say, if feminist rights were to be the focus of your “topic.” If you discuss something about depression then Kafka and Rolf (from Allende’s story) may be other suitable people to choose. The choices are limitless . . . Be clever! Be creative!
(Allende is not assigned until after the paper is due, but she is amazing; if you want to read ahead, you can choose to include her or the people she writes about. Her short "story" is beyond tragic, based on a real event of a young girl who is trapped in mud. Isabel Allende-- pages XXXXXXXXXX)

Requirements:
*YOU are the focus of this paper and you want to educate your reader about your “topic”; thus, the essay must be written in first person (“I”). You can change who you are, but keep it close to reality. (For example, you can be a future version of yourself--a biologist, professor, scientist, etc.)
*Choose no fewer than four and no more than six guests. CANNOT use Douglass, Ichiyo and Ghalib as one of your four main ones again. You can add them as one of the two extras if you want to go to six. Some may have small roles. They need to be from four different texts minimum.
*Set up the context of the “topic.” Where is it happening? Why are these “people” there? Is it a meet-up group? A therapy session? A party? A walk in the park?
*Think critically about the su
oundings. There should be symbolic reasons for the choice of place; it should relate to the topic at hand.

Other Requirements:

*Very important** The lengthier part of the “essay” needs to deal with a specific issue, theme, or concept—research is optional. Use what you need. The topic may be philosophical in nature (life, death, morality, religion, happiness etc.!) or a concrete topic (racism, voting, rights, climate, masks, etc.!) Cite your textbook, and if you use any outside information—you must CITE it.

Length of topic—around 60% approximately of your paper’s length needs to be focused on the “topic.” The “I” na
ator should represent your real feelings and your point of view should ultimately be the strongest position of the “topic” for your essay to be successful.

By page two or so of the essay, the focus of the “topic” needs to be clear.

Creative License and Limitations: *Student sample paper does the following really well--
*Cannot change the character’s personality
*Need to stay within the page limitations 5-7 pages double spaced ("a bit"--50 words-- over is fine, not more) (1,250 -1,750 words) use 12-point font. ADA recommends Cali
i or Arial (avoid Times New Roman, not ADA accessible). QUOTES included in Word Count, so make them count.
*Need to use proper grammar.
*Use language appropriate for the character. You can use slang and colloquialisms ONLY when using dialogue. The prose portion needs to be very formal. Think about the rhetoric behind your choices—don’t write anything “just because”; KNOW why you’re using a certain image, symbol, allusion, or word choice.
*Use COLORFUL, sensory, unique language and descriptions. Invent fresh similes and metaphors. Play with language. Have fun. Be creative.
*Approximately 5-7 pages. For workshop credit, needs to complete with a Works Cited page
*This “essay”—if prepared with savvy critical thinking—should allow you to be creative while expressing a particular view on an issue that you may be passionate about.

Required Sources:
Quotes from all the original stories, poems, and/or essays.
All the works listed from your textbook. There will be five minimum. Four—one for each person/character and one for Puchner for biographical and contextual information.
Ru
ic Checklist:
· There needs to be quotes from the original works, from four different stories, works, etc.Use in-text/parenthetical citations. That’s how I will distinguish between made up dialogue and when you are using the original works.
· If you want to use your made up dialogue and real sources do it like this—Here’s an example from the student sample paper “I once had a nightmare, or better yet, lived a nightmare where I woke up as a roach. Could you imagine that? I kept trying to give myself hope by saying ‘what if I went back to sleep for a while, and forgot about all this nonsense?’ but that never happened” (Kafka XXXXXXXXXXThe single quote is the original quote and the double quote is the made up dialogue.
· Four to six characters from different works
· Clear “topic” mentioned by end of page two (latest)
· Clean grammar, syntax
· Co
ect MLA—including in-text citations as well as Works Cited page
· Uses all required sources—Five minimum

Microsoft Word - Sample Student Essay. Brian.V..docx
Brian V.
Professor Robeson
English 204
26 November 2017
The Road I Took
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, and that
has made all the difference” (Frost). I thought about these words as I took step after step.
My road has made a difference, but not the kind I prayed for. In fact, the road I’ve chosen
has made matters worse for me. I feel even more lost then ever in “[this] wild and mighty
and unfriendly forest” that I remember Dante was all too familiar with (Alighieri 3). By
myself, I walk through this forest at night. Dusk is still a long way off and only
moonlight gleams through the thick canopy, sucking the life out of the wilderness with its
silvery hue. What sends shivers down my spine is the utter silence here. Only the quiet
sneaky whispers of a night
eeze waltz its way into my ears. They’re tricky; I’ll give you
that. One gentle gust of wind prompts me to rest by a leafless magnolia tree in a little
clearing. All I can remember is the world around me slowly fading away as my eyes
closed to the primordial darkness shared by all humans past and present.
A single voice
eaks the gentle silence, “We cannot go to sleep [here],” (Blake
95). I jolt awake to an ethereal image of an old bard. He speaks again, “To sleep here is to
emain trapped here in this vale eternally. There’s many dangers unique in this particular
forest.”
Meekly, I ask, “Who are you?” Quickly he replies, “‘I have no name.’ Not in this
state. But in a previous life, I was known as William Blake, the engraver and poet”
(Blake 96). “Why are you here?” I ask as I recover my bearings. I see behind him are
two other people: two men and a woman dressed very elegantly.
“I [sleep] in the dark, in the silent night. And when night comes, [I] go to places
fit for woe, walking along the darken’d valley with silent Melancholy,” (Blake 68, 131).
He takes my arm and lifts me off the tree. “You’ve entered the Ba
en Vale, home to the
Forest of Melancholy. Why are you here Little Lamb?”
Naturally, it takes me moment to respond. After a few seconds, air finally returns
to my lungs, “I got lost wandering through here. I remember coming to a fork in the road
and rather than going with the safe choice, I decided to go down the other path. What
could I lose? I said to myself. Better than turning around and going back. I can’t go back.
Nothing, but misery if I go back. Life is utterly unhappy and filled with misery. I’m not a
eligious man, but I know it’s because God has abandoned us. Nobody said it better than
Robert Frost, ‘I turned to speak to God, about the world’s despair; but to make bad
matters worse, I found God wasn’t there’ (Frost). So why not? Why not just wander
through this forest and completely lose myself in it?”
A smile
eaks the confused look on Blake’s face when he says, “There is always
happiness in this world; you simply have forgotten where to look. As for this forest,
you’ve picked the worst forest to lose yourself in. There are many other lost souls like
yours who are also trapped in this vale, but there are some special souls whose existence
is deeply intertwined with this valley. I am one of those very special souls. Come, I’ll
take you to another such spirit. Combined together, we may yet find your way out.”
Walking through this forest now with this small laconic group, one of the two
men approaches me, “You said that there is no happiness in this world. I think I can share
that sentiment. Please, call me Gregor Samsa.” After a small exchange of handshakes and
how do you do’s, he continues, “although, rather than God abandoning us, I think we did
this to ourselves. Some of us slave away and spend our entire lives trying to do our duty
and support our ungrateful families. We hardly have the time or the energy to pursue
what we like to do.”
I nod my head. Taking a moment to admire the forest around us, he returns to his
thought, “I once had a nightmare, or better yet, lived a nightmare where I woke up as a
oach. Could you imagine that? I kept trying to give myself hope by saying ‘what if I
went back to sleep for a while, and forgot about all this nonsense?’ but that never
happened (Kafka XXXXXXXXXXNo, I lived that nightmare for months, in fear as a cockroach,
hated by my family. Finally, after a small altercation where I was hit with an apple that
lodge itself in my abdomen, did I finally escape. One the world around faded away, I
found myself wandering these same forests for a long time. This place has made me
think; which was worse? My life as a slave to my family before or my lonely life as a
cockroach?”
Blake stops walking, turns to us and says, “Are any of you hungry? We can rest
for a moment.” We all agree and we rest in small rose patch. Blake picks one off the
ground and examines the delicate little flower.
Gregor passes out some small provisions: an apple, some wild be
ies—they
tasted like grapes to me—and a piece of
ead to each of us. The woman and the other
man sit nea
y introduce themselves to me. The woman’s name is Virginia Woolf and the
man was a senator from some country in South America—I’d forgotten which. His name
was Onesimo Sanchez. They said that they had overheard Gregor and I talking earlier and
would like to contribute to the conversation.
Sanchez goes first, “To me, all the misery in life comes from love. Or rather the
lack of it. ‘No one loves us,’ (Marquez XXXXXXXXXXLove is deceitful. It makes you want it,
crave it. At first, I thought ambition would be the death of me. You see, I knew I was a
dead man. I don’t mean that in the traditional sense, I was foretold I would die early, but
that didn’t deter me from going on my campaign. Instead, a young woman killed my
heart. She was the only comfort I had, more than I ever got from my wife and children. I
wanted that warmth, needed that comfort because I ‘remember that whether it’s you or
someone else, it won’t be long before you’ll be dead and it won’t be long before your
name won’t even be left’ (Marquez XXXXXXXXXXSo I tried, I tried to have someone remember
me and miss me after I’m gone.”
Woolf puts her hand on his shoulder and Gregor sinks his head down in
agreement. “Love is deadly,” I reply.
Answered 2 days After Nov 03, 2024

Solution

Parul answered on Nov 06 2024
3 Votes
Through the Mist of Mortality: Conversations on Life’s Meaning
Through the Mist of Mortality: Conversations on Life’s Meaning
Assignment
As I walked through the thick woods, I was besotted by the way the moon shone through the trees on such a cool, misty evening. I was preoccupied with the transience of life and the troubling inquiry that I had been grappling with for some time; what is the point of living when everything will die? Deep in thought, I didn’t realize when from the corner of my eye I noticed a slight movement in the darkness until a silhouette appeared—a man. A desolate look was seen on his face, and he was staring so hard into the ground it was as if looking up required too much energy.
He was the Underground Man, an excerpt from Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground, a character infamous for his extreme opinions on the core of humanity and the pain of existence. He spoke under his
eath, looking around and finally coming across me, his eyes squinting with scrutiny.
“Mmm, another wayward individual who is searching for a purpose” he chuckled lightly. “How naive. Why dwell on such ideas at all? Joy, purpose—these are just fantasies. Death is all there is for life, and those who believe otherwise are simply fools” (Dostoevsky 532).
I hesitated and stepped back because I was not used to this level of cynicism. “But wouldn’t you consider the longing for happiness to be one of the characteristics of being human? The inner conflict for instance, does not that, even in pain, enrich and make of some worth?”
The Underground Man expressed his disdain, scoffing. "Depth? This is merely a euphemism for suffering. Happiness, if there is any such thing, is merely the relaxation of one’s self from the harsh almost tragic, primarily depressing that life really is. People are searching for purpose because they are afraid of the void." (Dostoevsky 535). Every aspect of these words resonated with me and yet I disagreed with him; nonetheless, one could feel his tone, tempered with the heat of someone who had suffered, boiled with the frustration of people who battled with disenchantment.
A soft voice with a tinge of authority came from the side. As vision cleared, Virginia Woolf was approaching us looking strong and elegant. She directed a glance at the Underground Man that held a bit of pity, as if to say, I understand your suffering, but I do not dwell in it.
“The Bitter End,” as she soothingly put it, “may realistically occur however, it is in freedom and self-expression that true gratification can be achieved.” “Too frequently, however, that most basic of rights is even taken away from women. Cultures and societies have confined so many people within parochial and alien walls, without ever offering them a ‘room of one’s own’ — space to come to terms with themselves” (Woolf 1325).
I could sense the accompanying epiphany in me; “So, it is in freedom – in the possession of self and its unreserved display...
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