'The Conversion' by Md Khairul Hazwan bin Hj Maidin
Being in the young adulthood stage, I have grown up to become a very complex human being. Often intense, my mood ranges from uncontrollably jubilant and blithe to easily aggravated and agitated. It is in this stage of life that young adults like me either feel full of joy or utterly depressed as if life has been sucked right out of us. It is often the latter that dominates my life. I had gotten used to being fragile and intense to the extent that I became quite ignorant in life.
This was the case, until one day I was enlightened. An incident woke me up from my ignorance that until today, it bears as a reminder which cannot be erased from my mind.
It was a lazy Friday afternoon as I arrived at the bank. I waited as my brother opened the door for me and he quickly went to take a number. My number was 912 and the current number being entertained was 903. I pursed my lips as I waited impatiently. All the seats were full so I was forced to stand, which upset me even more.
I had been furious for days as I had found out my allowance of $100 had not been increased. I was promised a raise two months ago yet when I checked my account a few weeks ago I found out that my brother had not applied for my raise. I had been unkind to him ever since and so today he made an effort to meet my demands.
As I had nothing more to do than wait, I observed the many faces of the people in the bank. People from all walks of life were there, waiting patiently for their turn to manage their personal financial matters.
Suddenly the bell rang and the next number was 906. A middle aged couple stood up and went to the counter. My eyes were suddenly transfixed onto a young little girl in a yellow dress, smiling nonchalantly as she walked side by side her mother towards the counter. Her mother then picked her up and sat her down on the counter whilst her father managed their accounts.
I couldn’t help but notice the young girl’s ignorance of the fact that her parents probably saved money for her. Hugging her mother tight, she touched her mother’s delicately embroidered head scarf and expressed innocently how beautiful her mother looked. With a wide smile, her mother gave her an audible peck on the cheek which made them both laugh gleefully.
I suddenly saw myself in the cheerful little girl. I remembered that I had been much like her, not caring for monetary wealth, only for being happy and seeing others happy too. Her innocence reminded me of what I used to be and how happy I once was.
I suddenly remembered the cute child I was: guileless, timid, yet over-enthusiastic. I didn’t have the slightest care for any troubles at all, although I was always in trouble for being quite a menace. My mother’s smile and my father’s laugh were the only things I regarded as priceless. Yet now, it is the amount of money for me to spend which I hold dear most.
It suddenly dawned on me that I had been quite selfish and uptight over money. I had grown up to become self-centered and I felt stunned as I sat there thinking about it. I had regarded money as important, pushing away the more important aspects of my life. I had changed from being just like the little girl to enslaving the people around me, including my brother.
Until today, that incident at the post office is a reminder not to be self-indulgent with material wealth and to take into account other people’s feelings, especially the ones I love and care for the most. (648 words) [grade: B]
'The Conversion' by Angelyn Choo Tze Hui (B5).
My mother worked hard all her life so that I could have everything I ever wanted. I have become almost everything my mother had always hoped I would be: successful, wealthy and healthy, all at the same time. But she is not here to spend this time of my life with me, she left awhile back; she left me.
As my chauffeur drives along Richmond Road, I cannot help but glance out my window from the back seat of the car. I watch as the palm trees and grass fields roll away from me; I pretend that they are leaving me. Finally, the car pulls into the airport’s departure gate, and I step out of the car and on the dim platform. I linger around the hall so I can soak in the entire image, the entire sensation, the entire awareness of people leaving. I close my eyes and take it all in. Right at this very moment, I am thinking of my mother. In the very midst of crowded airport, I feel lonely. My hands start shaking and I clasp them tightly together, trying to calm myself down. I feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, but I swear that the airport is cold; the air-conditioning is working just fine, so I guess it is just me.
All the sudden, as if the thin piece of thread holding my sutured heart together was snapped, memories of my mother and I come rushing back to me. I shut my eyes even more tightly; as if to keep the memories from invading my mind so maybe that would stop the tears that are now slowly making their way down my cheeks. But I know these memories too well; they always come back when I think about her. They replay over and over again, and I get angry because most of them are of her leaving me for some business trip or another one of her urgent meetings. But there is one memory that I remember more vividly than all the other memories combined - it was of my mother and I when I was fifteen years old, and I was terribly sick and even more stubborn.
“Alright!” my mother said, “if you won’t go to the doctor, at least come and sleep in my room with me. Don’t sleep alone; I’ll take care of you.” She then tried to carry me, but I kicked and screamed and refused to move, because I was so angry. Angry at her and angry at the fact that she could be so caught up with her own busy working life all the time, rather than be there for me.
“Just leave me alone!” I yelled, “Go back to your own room, your own life. I hate you!”
She said nothing and went back to her room. I really thought that this was her finally leaving me alone, she was not going to fight for me anymore –my heart sank. The darkness in my room suddenly became so obvious to me, I felt alone. The she came back with a blanket, covered me with it and placed her pillow beside mine. She lay down and slept in my room, on my bed, with me; holding my hand the entire time. And each time as the stomach pangs came back and I started crying again, she clasped my hand with her hands and hugged me even more tightly; she knew it would not help, but she did it to let me know that she was there –she would always be there. “Mom…” I mumbled to myself. “Don’t you think things would be so much better if you could spend more time with me?”
“Everyday, Andrea…” my mother’s soft words were the last sound I heard as I gave in to sleep. “Everyday.”
I take a deep breath and smile to myself through the tears that are still silently streaming down my cheeks. I smile because through it all, despite it all, I know she thought of me, everyday. Even though she was so busy with her working life and I never got to spend time with her, I adore her. And everyday, for the rest of my life, I will think of her as well. (709 words) [ grade: B]
‘The Conversion’ by Hamadatun Najwa bt Yusuf Wahbi
“No! That’s my final answer!” I was tired of yelling to Bree about not wanting to send a random ‘Friendster’ message to a guy who barely knew I existed in this world. All because of a function one night at our dad’s workmate’s place…
“But, it’s about time you got to know someone new in your life! You’re already 24 for goodness sake!” I’d say it was probably the billionth time I’d heard that from her lips. That’s how it went every single time. This was one of those other unfortunate times. She propped herself against the wall of the bed, stretching her legs out with her Macintosh laptop sitting on her lap. I don’t know how she amazingly and coincidentally found that guy on that ‘Friendster’ site.
Bree was my second sister – more like my best friend and my partner in crime, who had just gotten married to her flame from 3 years ago; destiny she called it. I, on the other hand, called it crap. “I don’t understand how you see love as something overrated,” she had often said.
Quite frankly, I never understood how people could not see it as something overrated. I had heard of one, too many sob stories of relationships and marriage, and I refused to be the victim in any of them. My deepest, darkest secret about it all… I was scared – full stop.
“Come on, little sister! Pleassee? Oh! Oh! I can type it out for you if you don’t want to!” she grinned at me with much anticipation. I rolled my eyes, snapped at her for one last time and marched out of the room. A non-risk taker, yes, I was known for that, and I have to admit to the truth of that. I always, and I mean always, went the safe way. I would just shrug ‘rather not’ to any wild suggestion anyone would come up with, and to me, this was wild. “You’re so boring! You don’t have any excitement in your life! You don’t even take the risk in finding any, coward!” she managed to shout out.
‘Shut up, I know,’ I silently responded deep down.
“AAAHHHHHHHH!!!” I heard Bree’s scream from across the room. “He replied!” my face struck with confusion. What? Who? Huh? “Hehe, um, I kind of sent it.”
“YOU WHAT?” This was crazy. She could not possibly have gone into my account and typed a message to that guy. But she did. It had been a week ago that she last suggested it, but she did what she wanted to anyway. She cajoled me in to reading it. There it was on the screen a message from that guy: nothing lame, nothing corny, nothing too cliché. A perfect ‘hello’ message, nice and different. I found myself smiling at the screen, amazed by his response and slightly tickled pink that someone would actually bother responding to my message (which I did not even send). ‘Ah, I’ll just reply to this guy’s message anyway. He’ll be off in no time. He’d be such a typical guy who has done this millions of times: he’ll keep sending a few messages, find out it’s not easy to get to know me, he’ll get bored of the routine, then he’ll go get some other girl with a click of his finger,’ a typical-Diana thought ran across my mind.
Morning, day and night – it all involved him. No, we did not have phone calls, we did not chat on-line and no, we did not phone text one another. We continued to send on-line messages. I was impressed, as I had underestimated him. He was everything that I had not assumed he was. An intriguing man of 27 who loved to talk, and also a successful lawyer. I found both of us talking about anything we could think about at the top of our heads. Despite that, I limited myself from letting him get too close to my life. I did not want him to know me too well. Most of all, I was scared to like him. ‘I am not going to fall for him,’ the robotic person that I was would keep reminding myself. But day-by-day, it was getting harder to not like this guy. “You should learn to take risks,” he said to me in one message one day. I had baldly told him my problem of trusting people and he had been willing to answer every single question I wanted to know about him self, just for me to trust him. He’s a charmer, I knew he was…and that’s what scared me. I was free-falling into the unknown.
One date led to several others , week after week, which later went on for months. I couldn’t help myself I was falling hard for this guy. I tried so hard to deny it, but it was of no use. He was the most honest guy I had ever met. He was not afraid to tell me his past, the bad and the good. We always spent good times together, simply with a meal and a long chat, which included a whole lot of uncontrollable laughter. My rock-hard heart just softened getting to know him. I just knew that he was so real, so sincere and genuine. How? ‘Because I trust him’ – I, Diana, had finally learnt to trust.
My heart raced faster than usual whenever I was about to see him. Butterfly feelings would rush over me whenever I saw him. Phone-call night became every night. Every song we shared, every problem we dealt with. His flaws, my flaws, our flaws – we knew it all, even the funny and stupid ones. I subconsciously found myself expressing myself, which had never been easy for me before. I felt like Sonny of the movie ‘I-Robot’, who developed emotions inside of him. Deep inside me, my heart felt so round, so full. I felt a certain type of happiness inside of me, one that I couldn’t even explain. He’s like the French fries of my Spicy McDeluxe Meal, not a must-have, but it wouldn’t taste as awesome without it. I wouldn’t say that I was happy because of him, but I’d say because of him, I was happier. Love - I didn’t think it was overrated anymore. This was real. It was the real deal… I was in love. I was in love with this man. The best part was, he felt the same way too.
It has been three years already. Marcus and I got married a year after being together, just like my parents did, and we haven’t been happier ever since. I still smile waking up beside him, the one man that I love. It’s amazing how he still gives me those funny feelings inside. I still find myself falling more and more in love with him everyday and I don’t know how he does it. He changed me even without realizing it himself, and I love him more for it. I learnt so much, and in fact I still am learning. It’s ironic how I refused to get to know this man, but it was all worth it. I took a risk, I risked it all, and yet again, it was worth it. Both of us always look back and have a good laugh at those early times that we started out, and see how we have grown together. I would not have asked for anything better.
Thank you God for blessing me with a wonderful man, thank you Bree for going against my will. Lastly, thank you Babe for being so incredible, I love you…
And no, love is not overrated, that’s for sure. (1497 words) [grade:A]
Friday, August 22, 2008
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A Glossary for Text Analysis
OVERVIEW
Genre Fact: brochure, speech, dialogue, biography, magazine etc Fiction: novel, mystery, science fiction, gothic etc
Purpose Express as a verb: To entertain, to arouse sympathy, to sell something, to amuse, to criticize etc
Tone (Mood) Express as an adjective: persuasive, critical, laudatory, humorous, informative etc . Does it change or develop throughout the text? Do relationships between people change throughout the text?
Audience Is it for a general or specific readership? If specific, who will read it?
STRUCTURE
Vocab.(Diction) Shows tone. Positive/Negative/Neutral. (In)formal? Contrast in the vocab, between and within paragraphs? Specialized?
Punctuation Use of (semi-)colons, commas, brackets, quotation marks etc. What is the effect?
Grammar Length of paragraphs and sentences. Tense? 1st/2nd/3rd Person? Parts of speech (nouns, verbs etc), Direct Speech?
FIGURES OF SPEECH
Simile X is like Y or X is as ____ as Y. "My love is like a rose which blooms in Spring”
Metaphor X is Y. “My love is a rose which blooms in Spring”
Personification Giving human characteristics to non-human things. “The old car wheezed as it fought its way up the hill”
Rhetorical Question Asking a question to make a point, not requiring an answer. “Why do I have to do everything round here?”
Onomatopoeia Sounds like a sound. Bang, crash, crackle, pop, splash, whizz.
Alliteration Repetition of initial consonant sounds, usually harsh ones. “Big, brown bear” “A piece of paper”.
Assonance Repetition of vowel sounds within words, “a ship in distress”, usually in poetry rather than prose.
Contrast Two opposite ideas placed in juxtaposition, “’It was the best of times, It was the worst of times”
Oxymoron A seeming contradiction. “Artificial grass, fighting for peace, a quiet scream”
Hyperbole Exaggeration: “I’ve told you a thousand times, stop exaggerating!”
Repetition “Physics homework, English homework, Geography homework, will it never end?”
Pun A word with a “double meaning” used for humorous effect. “A backward poet writes inverse”
Euphemism Language used to avoid offence. “I’m going to the little girl’s room to powder my nose”. “His father passed away.”
Irony Saying the opposite of what you mean. “No, I’m not upset you are dumping me!” she sniffed.
Idiom Device whereby the words used do not contain their literal meaning. “The cat got your tongue!” (You can’t speak)
Connotation Suggestion evoked by word or phrase e.g. bachelor (cool guy about town) spinster (old woman left on the shelf)
Imagery Pictures created in readers’ minds, using comparisons (simile, metaphor)
Juxtaposition Placing things next to each other to show a relationship.
Prose Continuous writing which is not verse or dialogue.
Parallelism. A balance of two or more similar words or phrases. Giving two or more parts of the sentences a similar form so as to give the whole a definite pattern.
Antimetabole. Repetition of a phrase in reverse, used often in a speech to make a phrase more memorable. "Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country." "This is not the beginning of the end, but perhaps the end of the beginning" "If you fail to prepare, then prepare to fail."
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Blk 1 The Conversion by Sharifah Liyana...
Sharifah Liyana Nadzira Binti Malai Haji Hashim
Tutor Group B6
‘The Conversion’
I am 17 now, it has been 12 years since my father left my mother. I am the second daughter and am known to be much like my mother. I have her looks, her character and needless to say her talent in cooking - I’m Mommy’s girl.
This incident started on a normal day when I was only 5 years old and my older sister was 7 years old. All of us, Daddy, my sister, and I were getting ready for the day’s events, school, work - Mommy was preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Then, we all sat at the dining table waiting for breakfast to be served. My mother came out from the kitchen holding her tummy and carrying her pan in her other hand - she was 8 months pregnant. Then we had our family breakfast. Everything was normal, everything seemed fine. I gave my Mommy a kiss on the cheek and we all left the house.
My father dropped us at school. School was the same as it usually was. I had play time, I had recess and I was happy in school as I always was. After recess, I came back into my classroom and was ready to learn addition and subtraction. I was so excited that everyday whenever I got home, I would tell my Mommy and Daddy what I had learnt that day. At that time I didn’t know my mother was in the office asking for my sister and me to be pulled out of class. I would definitely learn subtraction later.
A lady then came into my class and told me that my mother was waiting for me in the office. I packed up my crayons and my papers and left class with the lady. All the way to the office she was talking to me, but I wasn’t even listening - all I could think about were the different reasons why I was going home early.
I saw my mother and my sister at the office and I ran to my Mommy and hugged her leg. I couldn’t believe I was ever that small. I was ever that innocent that I didn’t even know something was going to happen to me that could happen to anyone. My sister and I both reached up to hold our Mommy’s hand, we walked to the taxi waiting outside the office and the driver brought us home. In the car, I asked my Mommy why we were going home early and she only said that I was too young to know.
We arrived home and my mother told us to go straight upstairs. My sister left the room door open, we heard screaming and arguing. Both of us didn’t know what was happening. More screaming, more arguing, more confusion. Then BANG! My mother came to the room and shut the door close. She told us that we were going to leave the house, my Mommy and Daddy were getting a divorce. Subtraction…
From then on, life was a blurry dream of endless custody and court battles, visitations, confusion and hatred. I used to believe that we were the happiest family - we would go on family vacations together, there were endless family times at the beach and we had fun in all the things we did. Eventually all happiness ended in one day. After the final custody was fought, I ended up with my mother and my older sister ended up with my father- I guess it was because I was known as Mommy’s girl and was closer to her than to my Daddy. I couldn’t believe I was going to be separated not only with my Daddy but with my sister - Who’s going to play Barbie dolls with me? What if the baby happens to be a boy? So many things happened, so many stories to tell, I could go on forever. But I won’t!
I went through so many hard times. The whole ordeal pushed me to grow up fast. I didn’t realize that until later on in life. After the divorce, we had to stay at my Mommy’s friend’s house. Mommy eventually gave birth a few weeks after the divorce. At the hospital, my Mommy’s best friend took care of her - not that I knew how. I recall not seeing my Daddy or my sister at the hospital when I was outside the theatre; I heard my Mommy screaming in pain and I was scared anything would happen to her - I didn’t want to lose the only person I’d got.
Another sister was born, I wasn’t sure whether it was good news for me. It was not that I wasn’t happy to have another sister. But wasn’t it going to give my Mommy more burdens since my Daddy didn’t even send us money and my mother had to loan some from her friends and start paying them when she got a job? Nevertheless, until today we have lived well without receiving any maintenance from my Daddy.
My sister was moved out from school and I have never heard from her ever since. I was rebellious. I didn’t believe in ‘happy family’ anymore. Whenever my friends talk about their happy times with their family, I would just ignore them and tell them that all the happiness that families enjoy can suddenly vanish in one day.
(Grade B 74%)
Tutor Group B6
‘The Conversion’
I am 17 now, it has been 12 years since my father left my mother. I am the second daughter and am known to be much like my mother. I have her looks, her character and needless to say her talent in cooking - I’m Mommy’s girl.
This incident started on a normal day when I was only 5 years old and my older sister was 7 years old. All of us, Daddy, my sister, and I were getting ready for the day’s events, school, work - Mommy was preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Then, we all sat at the dining table waiting for breakfast to be served. My mother came out from the kitchen holding her tummy and carrying her pan in her other hand - she was 8 months pregnant. Then we had our family breakfast. Everything was normal, everything seemed fine. I gave my Mommy a kiss on the cheek and we all left the house.
My father dropped us at school. School was the same as it usually was. I had play time, I had recess and I was happy in school as I always was. After recess, I came back into my classroom and was ready to learn addition and subtraction. I was so excited that everyday whenever I got home, I would tell my Mommy and Daddy what I had learnt that day. At that time I didn’t know my mother was in the office asking for my sister and me to be pulled out of class. I would definitely learn subtraction later.
A lady then came into my class and told me that my mother was waiting for me in the office. I packed up my crayons and my papers and left class with the lady. All the way to the office she was talking to me, but I wasn’t even listening - all I could think about were the different reasons why I was going home early.
I saw my mother and my sister at the office and I ran to my Mommy and hugged her leg. I couldn’t believe I was ever that small. I was ever that innocent that I didn’t even know something was going to happen to me that could happen to anyone. My sister and I both reached up to hold our Mommy’s hand, we walked to the taxi waiting outside the office and the driver brought us home. In the car, I asked my Mommy why we were going home early and she only said that I was too young to know.
We arrived home and my mother told us to go straight upstairs. My sister left the room door open, we heard screaming and arguing. Both of us didn’t know what was happening. More screaming, more arguing, more confusion. Then BANG! My mother came to the room and shut the door close. She told us that we were going to leave the house, my Mommy and Daddy were getting a divorce. Subtraction…
From then on, life was a blurry dream of endless custody and court battles, visitations, confusion and hatred. I used to believe that we were the happiest family - we would go on family vacations together, there were endless family times at the beach and we had fun in all the things we did. Eventually all happiness ended in one day. After the final custody was fought, I ended up with my mother and my older sister ended up with my father- I guess it was because I was known as Mommy’s girl and was closer to her than to my Daddy. I couldn’t believe I was going to be separated not only with my Daddy but with my sister - Who’s going to play Barbie dolls with me? What if the baby happens to be a boy? So many things happened, so many stories to tell, I could go on forever. But I won’t!
I went through so many hard times. The whole ordeal pushed me to grow up fast. I didn’t realize that until later on in life. After the divorce, we had to stay at my Mommy’s friend’s house. Mommy eventually gave birth a few weeks after the divorce. At the hospital, my Mommy’s best friend took care of her - not that I knew how. I recall not seeing my Daddy or my sister at the hospital when I was outside the theatre; I heard my Mommy screaming in pain and I was scared anything would happen to her - I didn’t want to lose the only person I’d got.
Another sister was born, I wasn’t sure whether it was good news for me. It was not that I wasn’t happy to have another sister. But wasn’t it going to give my Mommy more burdens since my Daddy didn’t even send us money and my mother had to loan some from her friends and start paying them when she got a job? Nevertheless, until today we have lived well without receiving any maintenance from my Daddy.
My sister was moved out from school and I have never heard from her ever since. I was rebellious. I didn’t believe in ‘happy family’ anymore. Whenever my friends talk about their happy times with their family, I would just ignore them and tell them that all the happiness that families enjoy can suddenly vanish in one day.
(Grade B 74%)
Blk 1 Writing a drama script or script for radio
How to write a dialogue
http://www.carolgreene.com/education/vent/dialogue.html
How to write a Radio play
http://www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/arts/features/howtowrite/radio.shtml
(Homepage BBC ) How to Write…: (browse only) http://www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/arts/features/howtowrite/index.shtml
Writing a Soap opera story : http://www.ehow.com/how_2067605_write-soap-opera-story.html
Writing romantic dialogue : http://www.writing-world.com/romance/dialogue.shtml
Writing World Com: http://www.writing-world.com/ (browse only)
Past Examination questions on DRAMA SCRIPT or SCRIPT for RADIO
1. Using interior monologues (between 300– 450 words each), write a script for radio called‘The Two Faces’. In the script you should write contrasting sections which reveal different sides of the same personality. (Nov 2006)
2. Write a complete drama script called ‘You Never Can Tell’. In writing the piece you should explore the ways in which a character is deceived by appearances or events. (Nov 2005)
3. Write a piece of prose or drama script called ‘Memories’ for radio. The piece should make use of a narrator (and other characters if desired) and use brief flashbacks to show how certan events have shaoed the present. (PTE Mock exam 2008)
4. Write a script for a radio programme which deals with disease. (PTE Mock exam 2006)
EXAMPLES OF SCRIPTS
1. Play Synopses: BRIEF SKETCHES http://web.ukonline.co.uk/pdwilson/Synopses.htm
Independence Day (mini-drama; 2m, 1f; 10 min)
A teenage son is at the stage of leaving home, but his parents too find advantages in independence.
Perils of Travel (conversation piece; 2f; 10 min)
Two young professional women, awaiting a flight to a meeting, discuss a missing passenger, security issues, and why not to travel in a business suit.
Crash (mini-drama; 2f; 8 min)
A teenage girl, who may or may not be dreaming, is visited by a friend who may or may not have stolen the first's boy-friend, and has been involved in a horrendous road accident.
Inn Memory (mini-drama; 2f; 8 min)
Why is the visitor alarmed by a completely peaceful rural scene?
2. Horton’s one-act plays : http://www.stagepage.info/oneactplayscripts/_oneact.html
3. Horton’s monologues: http://www.stagepage.info/monologs/_monologs.html
4. One-two minute monologues: http://www.stagepage.info/mouthoffs/oneminutemonologues.html
5. Other Fiction http://web.ukonline.co.uk/pdwilson/Otherfict.htm
6. Science Fiction scripts: http://scifiscripts.com/index.html
7. Drama magazine for young people: http://www.playsmag.com
Boxes: http://www.playsmag.com/html/Category/JuniorSeniorHigh/200110_13.html
One-time football hero returns home to confront tense family relationship. . .by Joanna L. Evans
http://www.carolgreene.com/education/vent/dialogue.html
How to write a Radio play
http://www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/arts/features/howtowrite/radio.shtml
(Homepage BBC ) How to Write…: (browse only) http://www.bbc.co.uk/worldservice/arts/features/howtowrite/index.shtml
Writing a Soap opera story : http://www.ehow.com/how_2067605_write-soap-opera-story.html
Writing romantic dialogue : http://www.writing-world.com/romance/dialogue.shtml
Writing World Com: http://www.writing-world.com/ (browse only)
Past Examination questions on DRAMA SCRIPT or SCRIPT for RADIO
1. Using interior monologues (between 300– 450 words each), write a script for radio called‘The Two Faces’. In the script you should write contrasting sections which reveal different sides of the same personality. (Nov 2006)
2. Write a complete drama script called ‘You Never Can Tell’. In writing the piece you should explore the ways in which a character is deceived by appearances or events. (Nov 2005)
3. Write a piece of prose or drama script called ‘Memories’ for radio. The piece should make use of a narrator (and other characters if desired) and use brief flashbacks to show how certan events have shaoed the present. (PTE Mock exam 2008)
4. Write a script for a radio programme which deals with disease. (PTE Mock exam 2006)
EXAMPLES OF SCRIPTS
1. Play Synopses: BRIEF SKETCHES http://web.ukonline.co.uk/pdwilson/Synopses.htm
Independence Day (mini-drama; 2m, 1f; 10 min)
A teenage son is at the stage of leaving home, but his parents too find advantages in independence.
Perils of Travel (conversation piece; 2f; 10 min)
Two young professional women, awaiting a flight to a meeting, discuss a missing passenger, security issues, and why not to travel in a business suit.
Crash (mini-drama; 2f; 8 min)
A teenage girl, who may or may not be dreaming, is visited by a friend who may or may not have stolen the first's boy-friend, and has been involved in a horrendous road accident.
Inn Memory (mini-drama; 2f; 8 min)
Why is the visitor alarmed by a completely peaceful rural scene?
2. Horton’s one-act plays : http://www.stagepage.info/oneactplayscripts/_oneact.html
3. Horton’s monologues: http://www.stagepage.info/monologs/_monologs.html
4. One-two minute monologues: http://www.stagepage.info/mouthoffs/oneminutemonologues.html
5. Other Fiction http://web.ukonline.co.uk/pdwilson/Otherfict.htm
6. Science Fiction scripts: http://scifiscripts.com/index.html
7. Drama magazine for young people: http://www.playsmag.com
Boxes: http://www.playsmag.com/html/Category/JuniorSeniorHigh/200110_13.html
One-time football hero returns home to confront tense family relationship. . .by Joanna L. Evans
Friday, August 15, 2008
Blk 1 AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Autobiography (overview): http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Autobiography
About some well known autobiographies:
Roald Dahl : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boy_(book)
Jacques Casanova: So famous a womanizer was he that his name remains synonymous with the art of seduction and he is sometimes called "the world's greatest lover".
About Jacques Casanova: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giacomo_Casanova
Casanova’s bautobiography “History of my Life” ” http://romance-books.classic-
Maya Angelou: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Know_Why_the_Caged_Bird_Sings
Malcolm X : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Autobiography_of_Malcolm_X
Jane Pitman : http://encyclopedia.thefreedictionary.com/Autobiography+of+Jane+Pitman
About some well known autobiographies:
Roald Dahl : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boy_(book)
Jacques Casanova: So famous a womanizer was he that his name remains synonymous with the art of seduction and he is sometimes called "the world's greatest lover".
About Jacques Casanova: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giacomo_Casanova
Casanova’s bautobiography “History of my Life” ” http://romance-books.classic-
Maya Angelou: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Know_Why_the_Caged_Bird_Sings
Malcolm X : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Autobiography_of_Malcolm_X
Jane Pitman : http://encyclopedia.thefreedictionary.com/Autobiography+of+Jane+Pitman
Friday, August 8, 2008
Blk 1 Literary Elements
Literay Elements
Character
Character can be revealed through the character's actions, speech, and appearance. It also can be revealed by the comments of other characters and of the author.
Certain types of characters appear in many stories. Describe the following types if they appear in your book:
● The protagonist is the central character (person, animal, or personified object) in the plot's
conflict.
● The antagonist is the force in conflict with the protagonist. It may be society, nature, or fate, as well as another person. It can also be the protagonist's own self, if he or she has an internal
conflict.
● A character foil is a character whose traits are in direct contrast to those of the principal
character. The foil therefore highlights the traits of the protagonist. The foil is usually a minor character, although if there are two protagonists, they may be foils of each other.
● A stereotype is a character who possesses expected traits of a group rather than being an individual. Using stereotypes is usually considered an indication of poor quality, especially in cases such as members of minority groups, people with disabilities, or women. However, stereotypes can be useful in furthering the story quickly and are acceptable in minor roles if they
do not provide hurtful portraits of the groups in question.
Character development is showing the multitude of traits and behaviors that give the literary character the complexity of a human being. The amount of character development affects the quality of the story:
·
A flat character is not fully developed; we know only one side of the character.
·A round character is fully-developed, with many traits--bad and good--shown in the story. We feel that we know the character so well that he or she has become a real person.
A static character is one who does not experience a basic character change during the course of the story.
A dynamic character is one who experiences a basic change in character through the events of the story. This change is internal and may be sudden, but the events of the plot should make it seem inevitable.
· There is also a continuum of character change in a story, with very static characters at one end, and very dynamic ones at the other. Every character lies somewhere on this continuum. Dynamism in the protagonist is usually considered an indication of quality, but many characters, especially in stories for younger children, have only the mild amount of change which can be expected from growing and maturing from day to day.
· A character may thus be round and dynamic, round and static, or flat and static. A flat character cannot usually be dynamic, because you do not know enough about the flat character to notice a change. If a character seems flat and yet seems to change, it is usually because the characterization is not well written.
Plot
Plot is the sequence of events which involves the characters in conflict.
The sequence of events is called the narrative order:
· The most common type of narrative order in children's books is chronological. In this case, the events are told in the order they happen.
· A flashback occurs when the author narrates an event that took place before the current time of the story. Flashbacks are uncommon in children's literature because the passage of time is difficult for children to understand. The opposite effect, a flash forward, is even rarer.
· A time lapse occurs when the story skips a period of time that seems unusual compared to the rest of the plot. There is no standard amount of time that might constitute a time lapse; it depends upon the reader's sense that a longer than usual period of time has passed since the previous episode.
Conflict is the struggle between the protagonist and an opposing force. There are several types of conflict:
Internal conflict, or person-against-self, occurs when the protagonist struggles within himself or herself. The protagonist is pulled by two courses of action or by differing emotions. This is often considered a characteristic of fine literature because it frequently leads to a dynamic change in the protagonist.
Interpersonal conflict, or person-against-person, pits the protagonist against someone else.
Conflict of person-against-society happens when the protagonist is in conflict with the values of his or her society. This is a difficult concept for small children to grasp.
Conflict of person-against-nature takes place when the protagonists is threatened by an element of nature.
·Conflict of person-against-fate occurs when the protagonist must contend against a fact or life or death over which people have little control, such as death or disability. Some literary critics, however, see this conflict as a type of person-against-nature.
· Several types of conflict may be present in any one story.
· Sometimes it is difficult to distinguish between two types of conflict. If a teenager is arrested by a policeman for breaking a law, the conflict is probably person-against-society. If, however, a personal animosity develops between the two, so that the boy taunts the policeman and the policeman harasses the boy because they dislike each other, the conflict becomes person-againstperson. Likewise, if a character is attacked by a strange dog, the conflict is person-against-nature. But if the dog knows and dislikes the character, it could be considered person-against-person. If the protagonist is diagnosed with a fatal disease, he or she has a conflict with fate or nature, but also probably has an internal conflict in learning to accept his or her fate.
Most plots have certain common elements:
· A story commonly begins with exposition, an explanation of the situation and the condition of the characters. In children's books, the exposition is usually woven into the action.
· A plot usually begins with a problem which the protagonist must meet or solve. During the story, tension is built through a series of complications, incidents which either help or hinder the protagonist in finding a solution. This is the rising action.
· The climax is the peak or turning point of the action; at this point we know the outcome.
· The denouement or falling action is the part after the climax. It gives any necessary explanation and ends with resolution, the sense of at the end of the story that it is complete.
The ending of the story may be either open or closed:
o In a closed ending, the most usual one in children's books, readers feel that they know what will happen. The various parts of the plot are tied together satisfactorily, and the reader feels a sense of completion.
o In an open ending, readers must draw their own conclusions; they do not know what will happen.
o A cliffhanger is an abrupt ending at an exciting and often dangerous time in the plot. Its purpose is to keep the reader reading. It is usually found at the end of a chapter, but occasionally a book will end this way. (Not all open endings are suspenseful enough to be called cliffhangers.) Recently, books in some science fiction and fantasy series have ended in cliffhangers, which encourages the reading of the other books in the series.
Other elements which may be found in plots include:
· Suspense is a state of tension, a sense of uncertainty, an emotional pull which keeps the reader reading. All plots need some suspense to sustain interest.
· Foreshadowing is the planting of hints about what will happen later in the story. It prepares children for the outcome and reassures them when the suspense is very high. Good foreshadowing is subtle and often contributes to high quality in a story.
· Coincidence, the concurrence of events which happen by chance, is a fact in real life. However, real life is not a plot that moves from problem to climax to resolution. In fiction, coincidence seems contrived; it weakens the plot.
Coincidence in a plot is acceptable if it is carefully but subtly foreshadowed.
· Inevitability is the sense that the outcome is necessary and inescapable. It had to happen, given these characters and this situation; it is not contrived. It is a sign of high quality in writing.
· Sensationalism is unrelieved suspense; it often includes violence and may produce fear in the reader. Readers often like it, as the popularity of horror books and films attest, but it is usually considered a sign of poor quality. Even the Disney Studio, known for wholesome entertainment, is guilty of sensationalism. Sixty years ago, many children were frightened by the witch in Snow White. More recently The Lion King was criticized for excessive violence. In films, suspense is often heightened by cutting quickly between scenes and by the adroit use of background music to create a mood.
· Sentimentality is the opposite of sensationalism; it is the overuse of sentiment (a natural concern
for another person) that produces a tear-jerker. It is dwelling too much on the "cute" and the "precious." Like sensationalism, it is a sign of poor quality but is often popular. Movies such as Love Story and Terms of Endearment are examples of sentimentality. Many popular children's books are overly sentimental. Black Beauty, The Velveteen Rabbit, The Giving Tree, I'll Love You Forever, and the works of Joan Walsh Anglund have all been criticized for this.
Setting
Setting includes the place and the time period in which the story takes place.
Setting may or may not have an important influence on the story:
● An integral setting is essential to the plot; it influences action, character or theme.
● A backdrop setting is relatively unimportant to the plot; it is like the featureless curtain or flat painted scenery of a theater.
● Readers may interpret the importance of the setting differently; one may say that the setting is integral because the story must happen in a big city; another may say the same thing is backdrop because it may happen in any big city. (The former statement is probably more accurate, but either is acceptable if the meaning is clear.)
Setting can clarify conflict, illuminate character, affect the mood, and act as a symbol. The setting itself can be an antagonist in a person-against-nature conflict.
Theme
Theme is the underlying meaning of the story, a universal truth, a significant statement the story is making about society, human nature, or the human condition.
Although themes can convey important messages, they should never be overtly didactic. Didacticism is preaching and teaching so explicitly that children lose pleasure in the story and reject its message.
Types of themes:
● An explicit theme is one that is stated openly in the book. It is stated in universal terms in the
book itself.
· An implicit theme is one which is not directly stated, but which the reader can infer. Many times, readers will not notice that an explicit theme is directly stated, but they can often infer the theme anyway.
Themes must be clearly stated; one word is not usually enough. To say that a book's theme is "friendship" is not clear. It may mean, "Friends are a person's most valuable possession." It may also mean, "Friends can never be trusted if their own interests are opposed to yours."
An understanding of theme is dependent upon one's previous experience of life and literature. At the same time, theme in literature can enlarge one's understanding of life.
Not every good book has a significant theme; some books' value lies in the pleasure they give, rather than the message they bring. Books of humor, for instance, may or may not have a significant theme.
Style
Style is the language used in a book, the way the words are put together to create the story.
· Most children's books use standard written style. This style sounds natural, but when carefully analyzed, it is clear that it is more formal than most speech. Sentences are complete; expressions like "um," "you know," and "like--," are avoided; contractions are used less often than in ordinary speech. Lots of conversation may included, but the style as a whole does not sound like speech.
· In conversational style, the language is more informal, it sounds more like the way people really talk. The narration as well as the character's speeches sounds conversational.
· Dialect is easiest for children to read if word order or a few unusual words and expressions are used to suggest a difference from normal speech. Other languages may be suggested in the same way through speech patterns and foreign words. Foreign and unusual words should be explained naturally in context. .
· An ornate or unusual style is sometimes used, especially in some high fantasy and historical fiction. Older editions of traditional literature and older poetry may also have such styles.
Writers use many devices of style to make stories interesting.
· Imagery is the most frequently used device. It is an appeal to any of the senses--taste, touch, sight, sound, and smell. It paints pictures in our mind.
· Figurative language uses words in a nonliteral way, giving them a meaning beyond their ordinary one.
o Personification gives human traits to animals, nonhuman beings, or inanimate objects: "The trees bowed before the wind."
o A simile compares two different things, using the words "as," "like," or "than": "The
snowbank looked like a huge pile of marshmallow syrup."
o A metaphor is an implied comparison stating the resemblance between two things: "Her presence was a ray of light in a dark world."
· Devices of sound can increase pleasure and clarity. Books which use many such devices should be read aloud. Poetry is particularly rich in such devices.
o Onomatopoeia is the use of words that sound like their meaning: a skirt "swishes," a bat "cracks," a hasty eater "gulps" his food.
o Alliteration is repetition of initial consonants: "the soft surge of the sea."
o Consonance is repetition of consonants sounds anywhere in the words: "The sight of the apple and maple trees pleased the people."
o Rhyme is the repetition of a stressed sound, usually the final syllable: "His aim was to blame the dame."
o Assonance is repetition of vowel sounds in a phrase: The owl swept out of the woods and circled the house."
o Rhythm is the recurring flow of strong and weak beats in a phrase: "Chicka, chicka, boom, boom! Will there be enough room?" Meter is the regular rhythmic pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables found in a line of poetry. The less regular rhythm sometimes found in prose is often called cadence.
· Puns and other plays on words add interest and humor: "By the time the milking was finished, the new farmhand was thoroughly cowed." Puns are said to be "the lowest form of wit," but people usually enjoy them even as they groan.
· Hyperbole is exaggeration: "He was frightened out of his wits." Understatement is the opposite: "He was upset when he learned he had AIDS."
· Allusion is an indirect reference to something outside the current literary work: "He was a veritable Hercules." The reference may be to something in literature, history, modern culture, or another area. Allusion is often difficult for children to recognize because they lack the necessary background knowledge.
· A symbol is something--a person, object, situation, or action--which operates on two levels, the literal and the symbolic. For instance, an engagement ring is a real object, but it is also stands for the abiding love of the engaged couple. Symbols add depth and meaning to a story. Symbols may be universal (as the engagement ring) or specific to a particular story.
Qualities which should be avoided in style include triteness (dull, stale, overused expressions), condescension (talking down to children, making them feel unintelligent or immature), didacticism, sensationalism, and sentimentality.
Point of View
Point of view depends upon who the narrator is and how much he or she knows.
Point of view may be:
· First person - uses "I" - A character is telling the story.
· Second person - uses "you" - The author speaks directly to the reader. Second person is seldom used; it is found most often in nonfiction today.
· Third person - uses "he," "she," or "it" - The author is telling about the characters. There are three third person points of view:
o Limited omniscient - We are told the thoughts and feelings of only one character (sometimes, but very seldom, of two or three characters).
o Omniscient - We are told everything about the story, including the thoughts and feelings of all the characters, and even information in the author's mind which no character knows.
.
Tone
Tone is the author's attitude toward what he or she writes, but it may be easier to understand if you think of it as the attitude that you (the reader) get from the author's words. It is the hardest literary element to discuss; often we can recognize it but not put it into words. The easiest tone to recognize is humor. In describing tone, use adjectives: humorous, mysterious, creepy, straight-forward, matter-of-fact, exciting, boring, etc.
Blk 1 SREDNI VASHTAR
Sredni Vashtar by SAKI (Hector Munro) (adapted)
SYNOPSIS
Sredni Vashtar is a short story written by Saki (Hector Hugh Munro) between 1900 and 1914 and initially published in his book Beasts and Super-Beasts. It has been adapted into a short film and a TV drama.
The story concerns a 10-year-old boy called Conradin, who lives with his strict cousin and guardian, Mrs. De Ropp. Conradin rebels against her and invents a new religion for himself, which centres around idolising a polecat-ferret he calls Sredni Vashtar; a vengeful, merciless god. Conradin keeps the polecat hidden in a cage in the garden shed, and worships the idol in secret. The story comes to a climax when his cousin sets out to discover his god.
In Hindi, Sherni means Tigress. Vastar is a region of India with hills and forests. Sherni Vastar in Hindi means The Tigress of Vastar region. Saki had strong connections with India.
**************
Conradin was ten years old, and the doctor had pronounced his opinion that the boy would not live another five years. The doctor counted for little[1], but his opinion was endorsed[2] by Mrs. De Ropp, who counted for nearly everything. Mrs. De Ropp was Conradin's cousin and guardian, and in his eyes she represented those three-fifths of the world that are necessary and disagreeable and real; the other two-fifths, were summed up in himself and his imagination. One of these days Conradin supposed he would succumb to the pressure of necessary things---such as illnesses and restrictions and dullness. Without his imagination, which was unrestrained in his loneliness, he would have succumbed long ago.
Mrs. De Ropp would never have confessed to herself that she disliked Conradin, though thwarting[3] him “for his good'' was a duty which she did not find irksome[4]. Conradin hated her with a sincerity which he was perfectly able to mask. Such few pleasures as he could contrive for himself gained a relish[5] from the likelihood that they would be displeasing to his guardian.
In the dull, cheerless garden, overlooked by so many windows that were ready to open with a message not to do this or that, he found little attraction. In a forgotten corner, however, almost hidden behind a shrubbery, was a disused tool-shed, and within its walls Conradin found a haven[i], something that became a playroom and a cathedral. He had peopled it with familiar phantoms, evoked partly from fragments of history and partly from his own brain, but it also boasted two inmates of flesh and blood. In one corner lived a ragged-plumaged Houdan hen, on which the boy lavished an affection that had scarcely another outlet. Further back in the gloom stood a large hutch[ii], divided into two compartments, one of which was fronted with close iron bars. This was the abode of a large polecat-ferret[iii], which a friendly butcher-boy had once smuggled, cage and all, into its present quarters, in exchange for silver. Conradin was dreadfully afraid of the sharp-fanged beast, but it was his most treasured possession. Its very presence in the tool-shed was a secret and fearful joy, to be kept from the knowledge of the Woman, as he privately dubbed[iv] his cousin.
And one day, he spun the beast a wonderful name, and from that moment it grew into a god and a religion. The Woman indulged in religion once a week at a church near by, and took Conradin with her, but to him the church service was an alien rite. Every Thursday, in the dim and musty silence of the tool-shed, he worshipped before the wooden hutch where dwelt Sredni Vashtar, the great ferret. Red flowers in their season and scarlet berries in the winter-time were offered at his shrine, for he was a god who laid stress on the impatient side of things, as opposed to the Woman's religion, which went to the contrary direction. And on great festivals, powdered nutmeg was strewn in front of his hutch. These festivals were of irregular occurrence, and were chiefly appointed to celebrate some passing event. On one occasion, when Mrs. De Ropp suffered from acute toothache for three days, Conradin kept up the festival during the entire three days, and almost succeeded in persuading himself that Sredni Vashtar was personally responsible for the toothache.
After a while Conradin's absorption in the tool-shed began to attract the notice of his guardian.
Vocabulary help
[1] Was not important
[2] approved
[3] Making him frustrated
[4] annoying
[5] Hearty enjoyment
[i] A place of refuge or rest
[ii] A coop for small animals
[iii] A weasellike, mammal often trained to hunt rats or rabbits.
[iv] nicknamed
``It is not good for him to be pottering down there in all weathers,'' she promptly decided, and at breakfast one morning she announced that the Houdan hen had been sold and taken away overnight. With her short-sighted eyes she peered at Conradin, waiting for an outbreak of rage and sorrow. But Conradin said nothing: there was nothing to be said. Something perhaps in his white set face gave her a momentary qualm, for at tea that afternoon there was toast on the table, a delicacy which she usually banned on the ground that it was bad for him;
``I thought you liked toast,'' she exclaimed, with an injured air, observing that he did not touch it.``Sometimes,'' said Conradin.
In the shed that evening there was an innovation in the worship of the hutch-god. Conradin had been wont[i] to chant his praises, tonight he asked a boon[ii].
``Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar.''
The thing was not specified. As Sredni Vashtar was a god he must be supposed to know. And choking back a sob as he looked at that other empty comer, Conradin went back to the world he so hated.
And every night, in the welcome darkness of his bedroom, and every evening in the dusk of the tool-shed, Conradin's bitter litany[iii] went up: "Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar."
Mrs. De Ropp noticed that the visits to the shed did not cease, and one day she made a further journey of inspection.
"What are you keeping in that locked hutch?" she asked. "I believe it's guinea-pigs. I'll have them all cleared away."
Conradin shut his lips tight, but the Woman ransacked his bedroom till she found the carefully hidden key, and marched down to the shed to complete her discovery. It was a cold afternoon, and Conradin had been bidden to keep to the house. From the furthest window of the dining-room the door of the shed could just be seen, and there Conradin stationed himself. He saw the Woman enter, and then he imagined her opening the door of the sacred hutch and peering down with her short-sighted eyes into the thick straw bed where his god lay hidden. Perhaps she would prod at the straw in her clumsy impatience. And Conradin fervently breathed his prayer for the last time. But he knew as he prayed that he did not believe. He knew that the Woman would come out presently with that pursed smile he loathed so well, and that in an hour or two the gardener would carry away his wonderful god, a god no longer, but a simple brown ferret in a hutch. And he knew that the Woman would triumph always, and that he would grow ever more sickly under her pestering and domineering and superior wisdom, till one day nothing would matter much more with him, and the doctor would be proved right. And in the sting and misery of his defeat, he began to chant loudly and defiantly[iv] the hymn of his threatened idol:
Sredni Vashtar went forth,
His thoughts were red thoughts and his teeth were white.
His enemies called for peace, but he brought them death.
Sredni Vashtar the Beautiful.
Vocabulary help
[i] Accustomed; used to
[ii] A timely blessing
[iii] A prayer consisting of a series of requests
[iv] Boldly resisting
And then of a sudden he stopped his chanting and drew closer to the window-pane. The door of the shed still stood ajar as it had been left, and the minutes were slipping by. They were long minutes, but they slipped by nevertheless. He watched the starlings running and flying in little parties across the lawn; he counted them over and over again, with one eye always on that swinging door. A sour-faced maid came in to lay the table for tea, and still Conradin stood and waited and watched. Hope had crept by inches into his heart, and now a look of triumph began to blaze in his eyes that had only known the wistful patience of defeat. Under his breath, with a furtive exultation, he began once again the paean[v] of victory and devastation. And presently his eyes were rewarded: out through that doorway came a long, low, yellow-and-brown beast, with eyes a-blink at the waning daylight, and dark wet stains around the fur of jaws and throat. Conradin dropped on his knees. The great polecat-ferret made its way down to a small brook at the foot of the garden, drank for a moment, then crossed a plank bridge and was lost to sight in the bushes. Such was the passing of Sredni Vashtar.
"Tea is ready," said the sour-faced maid; "where is the mistress?" "She went down to the shed some time ago," said Conradin. And while the maid went to summon her mistress to tea, Conradin fished a toasting-fork and proceeded to toast himself a piece of bread. And during the toasting of it and the buttering of it with much butter and the slow enjoyment of eating it, Conradin listened to the noises and silences which fell in quick spasms beyond the dining-room door. The loud foolish screaming of the maid, the answering chorus from the kitchen region, the scuttering footsteps and hurried cries for outside help, and then, after a lull, the scared sobbings and the shuffling steps into the house.
"Whoever will break it to the poor child? I couldn't for the life of me!" exclaimed a shrill voice. And while they debated the matter among themselves, Conradin made himself another piece of toast.
Vocabulary help
[v] A fervent expression of joy or praise:
SYNOPSIS
Sredni Vashtar is a short story written by Saki (Hector Hugh Munro) between 1900 and 1914 and initially published in his book Beasts and Super-Beasts. It has been adapted into a short film and a TV drama.
The story concerns a 10-year-old boy called Conradin, who lives with his strict cousin and guardian, Mrs. De Ropp. Conradin rebels against her and invents a new religion for himself, which centres around idolising a polecat-ferret he calls Sredni Vashtar; a vengeful, merciless god. Conradin keeps the polecat hidden in a cage in the garden shed, and worships the idol in secret. The story comes to a climax when his cousin sets out to discover his god.
In Hindi, Sherni means Tigress. Vastar is a region of India with hills and forests. Sherni Vastar in Hindi means The Tigress of Vastar region. Saki had strong connections with India.
**************
Conradin was ten years old, and the doctor had pronounced his opinion that the boy would not live another five years. The doctor counted for little[1], but his opinion was endorsed[2] by Mrs. De Ropp, who counted for nearly everything. Mrs. De Ropp was Conradin's cousin and guardian, and in his eyes she represented those three-fifths of the world that are necessary and disagreeable and real; the other two-fifths, were summed up in himself and his imagination. One of these days Conradin supposed he would succumb to the pressure of necessary things---such as illnesses and restrictions and dullness. Without his imagination, which was unrestrained in his loneliness, he would have succumbed long ago.
Mrs. De Ropp would never have confessed to herself that she disliked Conradin, though thwarting[3] him “for his good'' was a duty which she did not find irksome[4]. Conradin hated her with a sincerity which he was perfectly able to mask. Such few pleasures as he could contrive for himself gained a relish[5] from the likelihood that they would be displeasing to his guardian.
In the dull, cheerless garden, overlooked by so many windows that were ready to open with a message not to do this or that, he found little attraction. In a forgotten corner, however, almost hidden behind a shrubbery, was a disused tool-shed, and within its walls Conradin found a haven[i], something that became a playroom and a cathedral. He had peopled it with familiar phantoms, evoked partly from fragments of history and partly from his own brain, but it also boasted two inmates of flesh and blood. In one corner lived a ragged-plumaged Houdan hen, on which the boy lavished an affection that had scarcely another outlet. Further back in the gloom stood a large hutch[ii], divided into two compartments, one of which was fronted with close iron bars. This was the abode of a large polecat-ferret[iii], which a friendly butcher-boy had once smuggled, cage and all, into its present quarters, in exchange for silver. Conradin was dreadfully afraid of the sharp-fanged beast, but it was his most treasured possession. Its very presence in the tool-shed was a secret and fearful joy, to be kept from the knowledge of the Woman, as he privately dubbed[iv] his cousin.
And one day, he spun the beast a wonderful name, and from that moment it grew into a god and a religion. The Woman indulged in religion once a week at a church near by, and took Conradin with her, but to him the church service was an alien rite. Every Thursday, in the dim and musty silence of the tool-shed, he worshipped before the wooden hutch where dwelt Sredni Vashtar, the great ferret. Red flowers in their season and scarlet berries in the winter-time were offered at his shrine, for he was a god who laid stress on the impatient side of things, as opposed to the Woman's religion, which went to the contrary direction. And on great festivals, powdered nutmeg was strewn in front of his hutch. These festivals were of irregular occurrence, and were chiefly appointed to celebrate some passing event. On one occasion, when Mrs. De Ropp suffered from acute toothache for three days, Conradin kept up the festival during the entire three days, and almost succeeded in persuading himself that Sredni Vashtar was personally responsible for the toothache.
After a while Conradin's absorption in the tool-shed began to attract the notice of his guardian.
Vocabulary help
[1] Was not important
[2] approved
[3] Making him frustrated
[4] annoying
[5] Hearty enjoyment
[i] A place of refuge or rest
[ii] A coop for small animals
[iii] A weasellike, mammal often trained to hunt rats or rabbits.
[iv] nicknamed
``It is not good for him to be pottering down there in all weathers,'' she promptly decided, and at breakfast one morning she announced that the Houdan hen had been sold and taken away overnight. With her short-sighted eyes she peered at Conradin, waiting for an outbreak of rage and sorrow. But Conradin said nothing: there was nothing to be said. Something perhaps in his white set face gave her a momentary qualm, for at tea that afternoon there was toast on the table, a delicacy which she usually banned on the ground that it was bad for him;
``I thought you liked toast,'' she exclaimed, with an injured air, observing that he did not touch it.``Sometimes,'' said Conradin.
In the shed that evening there was an innovation in the worship of the hutch-god. Conradin had been wont[i] to chant his praises, tonight he asked a boon[ii].
``Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar.''
The thing was not specified. As Sredni Vashtar was a god he must be supposed to know. And choking back a sob as he looked at that other empty comer, Conradin went back to the world he so hated.
And every night, in the welcome darkness of his bedroom, and every evening in the dusk of the tool-shed, Conradin's bitter litany[iii] went up: "Do one thing for me, Sredni Vashtar."
Mrs. De Ropp noticed that the visits to the shed did not cease, and one day she made a further journey of inspection.
"What are you keeping in that locked hutch?" she asked. "I believe it's guinea-pigs. I'll have them all cleared away."
Conradin shut his lips tight, but the Woman ransacked his bedroom till she found the carefully hidden key, and marched down to the shed to complete her discovery. It was a cold afternoon, and Conradin had been bidden to keep to the house. From the furthest window of the dining-room the door of the shed could just be seen, and there Conradin stationed himself. He saw the Woman enter, and then he imagined her opening the door of the sacred hutch and peering down with her short-sighted eyes into the thick straw bed where his god lay hidden. Perhaps she would prod at the straw in her clumsy impatience. And Conradin fervently breathed his prayer for the last time. But he knew as he prayed that he did not believe. He knew that the Woman would come out presently with that pursed smile he loathed so well, and that in an hour or two the gardener would carry away his wonderful god, a god no longer, but a simple brown ferret in a hutch. And he knew that the Woman would triumph always, and that he would grow ever more sickly under her pestering and domineering and superior wisdom, till one day nothing would matter much more with him, and the doctor would be proved right. And in the sting and misery of his defeat, he began to chant loudly and defiantly[iv] the hymn of his threatened idol:
Sredni Vashtar went forth,
His thoughts were red thoughts and his teeth were white.
His enemies called for peace, but he brought them death.
Sredni Vashtar the Beautiful.
Vocabulary help
[i] Accustomed; used to
[ii] A timely blessing
[iii] A prayer consisting of a series of requests
[iv] Boldly resisting
And then of a sudden he stopped his chanting and drew closer to the window-pane. The door of the shed still stood ajar as it had been left, and the minutes were slipping by. They were long minutes, but they slipped by nevertheless. He watched the starlings running and flying in little parties across the lawn; he counted them over and over again, with one eye always on that swinging door. A sour-faced maid came in to lay the table for tea, and still Conradin stood and waited and watched. Hope had crept by inches into his heart, and now a look of triumph began to blaze in his eyes that had only known the wistful patience of defeat. Under his breath, with a furtive exultation, he began once again the paean[v] of victory and devastation. And presently his eyes were rewarded: out through that doorway came a long, low, yellow-and-brown beast, with eyes a-blink at the waning daylight, and dark wet stains around the fur of jaws and throat. Conradin dropped on his knees. The great polecat-ferret made its way down to a small brook at the foot of the garden, drank for a moment, then crossed a plank bridge and was lost to sight in the bushes. Such was the passing of Sredni Vashtar.
"Tea is ready," said the sour-faced maid; "where is the mistress?" "She went down to the shed some time ago," said Conradin. And while the maid went to summon her mistress to tea, Conradin fished a toasting-fork and proceeded to toast himself a piece of bread. And during the toasting of it and the buttering of it with much butter and the slow enjoyment of eating it, Conradin listened to the noises and silences which fell in quick spasms beyond the dining-room door. The loud foolish screaming of the maid, the answering chorus from the kitchen region, the scuttering footsteps and hurried cries for outside help, and then, after a lull, the scared sobbings and the shuffling steps into the house.
"Whoever will break it to the poor child? I couldn't for the life of me!" exclaimed a shrill voice. And while they debated the matter among themselves, Conradin made himself another piece of toast.
Vocabulary help
[v] A fervent expression of joy or praise:
Blk 1- Laila's commentary (Ndume the gorilla)
An extract from Laila’s commentary (Ndume)
(a) Comment on the style and language of the passage.
Mrs Saunders’ comments:
For every line reference , Laila talks about the importance of words, phrases or parts of a sentence ( ie what they mean/how they emphasize the writer’s experience of the gorillas). In other words, every sentence in her answer explains the effect of language in the passage. To do this, Laila uses expressions like 'accentuates', 'paints an image of ...', 'stresses that..', shows that...'
Read the extract of Laila's commentary carefully. The effect (importance) of language is in italics.
Lines 12-13 basically just describe the mood as the writer faces Ndume , “He sat, and I lay” emphasizes the closeness of them and how much they can fit together. The phrase “deep green tangle of luxuriant vegetation” draws a vivid image in the readers’ mind.
Lines 13-14 also accentuates how much the writer and Ndume understand each other that they “shifted our eyes frequently”. There is a silent moment there where they just observing the surrounding and feel the peaceful atmosphere between them.
In line 14 the word “glittered” paints an image of shining, a beautiful shining on the leaves by the rain and this can make the readers to feel the atmosphere. In lines 15 and 16 the short sentence stresses how the surrounding has changed by the changing of Ndume’s mood, “holding his chin in the palm of his hand”. He seemed to be in a “contemplative mood.”
In lines 16-17 the writer is adopting the rule and tries not to break it as it may arouse gorilla’s anger.
In line 18-19, “he moved toward me, smiling vaguely and shifting his gaze in a we;;-bred manner”; this stresses that Ndume is now gaining the trust for the writer and t hat he likes the man but still acting politely with his guest.
In line 20 the writer is describing Ndume’s appearance and she compares Ndume’s muscles to the size of melons. This enables the readers to imagine how Ndume looks like.
The dashes in line 21 shows that the writer is trying to tell the readers of hat she thinks of the “silver hair”.
(a) Comment on the style and language of the passage.
Mrs Saunders’ comments:
For every line reference , Laila talks about the importance of words, phrases or parts of a sentence ( ie what they mean/how they emphasize the writer’s experience of the gorillas). In other words, every sentence in her answer explains the effect of language in the passage. To do this, Laila uses expressions like 'accentuates', 'paints an image of ...', 'stresses that..', shows that...'
Read the extract of Laila's commentary carefully. The effect (importance) of language is in italics.
Lines 12-13 basically just describe the mood as the writer faces Ndume , “He sat, and I lay” emphasizes the closeness of them and how much they can fit together. The phrase “deep green tangle of luxuriant vegetation” draws a vivid image in the readers’ mind.
Lines 13-14 also accentuates how much the writer and Ndume understand each other that they “shifted our eyes frequently”. There is a silent moment there where they just observing the surrounding and feel the peaceful atmosphere between them.
In line 14 the word “glittered” paints an image of shining, a beautiful shining on the leaves by the rain and this can make the readers to feel the atmosphere. In lines 15 and 16 the short sentence stresses how the surrounding has changed by the changing of Ndume’s mood, “holding his chin in the palm of his hand”. He seemed to be in a “contemplative mood.”
In lines 16-17 the writer is adopting the rule and tries not to break it as it may arouse gorilla’s anger.
In line 18-19, “he moved toward me, smiling vaguely and shifting his gaze in a we;;-bred manner”; this stresses that Ndume is now gaining the trust for the writer and t hat he likes the man but still acting politely with his guest.
In line 20 the writer is describing Ndume’s appearance and she compares Ndume’s muscles to the size of melons. This enables the readers to imagine how Ndume looks like.
The dashes in line 21 shows that the writer is trying to tell the readers of hat she thinks of the “silver hair”.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Blk 1 Ndume
EAS November 2007, Paper 1
(Passage about a traveller's experience of a gorilla family in Rwanda)
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