Requiem

Requiem Anna Akhmatova

Russian poem of the twentieth century.

The following entry provides criticism of Akhmatova's Requiemfrom 1972 through 1999.

See also, Anna Akhmatova Literary Criticism (Introduction), and Volumes 25, 126.

Rekviem (1963), translated into English as Requiem, is the one of the best known works of
the Russian poet Anna Akhmatova. The composition consists of a series of numerous short
poems that reflect the anguish of the Russian people during years of persecution and
purges under the rule of Joseph Stalin. Although it was composed in large part prior to
1940, Akhmatova considered Requiem too dangerous to be written down, much less
published, at the time, so until the mid-1960s it remained unpublished, and existed only as
individual verses memorized by the poet and a handful of her most trusted confidants.

Biographical Information

Akhmatova (also transliterated as Axmatova) was born Anna Andreevna Gorenko in

Odessa, a coastal town along the Black Sea in the Ukraine, on June 23, 1888. She was raised
in Tsarskoye Selo, near St. Petersburg. Her affinity for writing poetry began during
childhood. In 1910, she married the poet Nikolai Gumilyov, with whom she was a founding
member of the Acmeist group of poets who rejected the mysticism and stylistic obscurity of
Symbolism and attempted to restore clarity to poetic language. She gave birth to a son in
1912 and was divorced from Gumilyov following an unhappy marriage in 1918. Gumilyov
was executed by the Soviet regime for treason in 1921. An unofficial ban by the Communist
party on the publication of Akhmatova's works was imposed starting in 1925; this was due
in some measure to her previous association with Gumilyov, but it was also a consequence
of her popularity as a poet in pre-Revolutionary years and her choice of themes such as
death, poverty, and the fear of war. Her son, too, suffered at the hands of the Stalinist
regime through repeated arrests for no discernible “crime” other than being the son of
literary parents whose works were regarded with suspicion by the political leaders of the
day. During the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s, Akhmatova continued to write and translate
verse, but much of the work attributed to these decades, including Requiem, remained
unpublished until the late 1950s and mid-1960s, well after the death of Stalin. She died on
March 5, 1966.

Plot and Major Characters

Requiem is a cycle of fifteen short poems introduced with a paragraph of prose that, taken
as a whole, constitutes an epic of grief and remembrance. Although the work possesses no
conventionally defined plot, the ten internal numbered poems form a chronological
revelation that documents the suffering of the Russian people during the years of Stalinist
terror. Through the eyes of the women—who stood outside prisons for days, hoping for
word about their loved ones, hoping to deliver a hat or a pair of salvaged gloves or shoes,
hoping for one last glimpse before the inevitable sentence of death or exile for a beloved
son or husband—Akhmatova plumbs the depths of unimaginable suffering, and charts the
journey of mourning and memorial. The poem opens with a declaration of the pain of one
woman, an individual circumstance but recognizable to all who lived through the era. With
each successive poem, the central figure experiences a new stage of suffering: mute grief,
growing disbelief, rationalization, raw mourning, steely resolve. Sometimes writing in the
first person, sometimes in the third person, Akhmatova becomes the voice of the people as
she universalizes her personal pain over the repeated imprisonment of her son and the loss
of friends and literary peers to execution and exile.

Throughout much of the cycle the suffering Russian woman, one yet universal, is the
central figure. At the climax of the cycle of grief, however, three figures of Christian
religious significance appear: Mary Magdalene, Mary the Mother of Christ, and John, the
beloved disciple. Critics hold various opinions about why Akhmatova incorporated these
personages who are closely associated with Catholic religious beliefs, and about whom
significant people in the poet's life each figure represents. Within the work as a whole,
however, these religious figures, placed outside the context of their New Testament roles,
reinforce the poet's subtext of the inevitability of suffering. Akhmatova allows the central
figure to transcend her personal circumstances in an almost mystical, supernatural way—
not to mitigate her pain or allow her a measure of peace, but to dignify and honor the
ability of this woman, and all women, to confront their deepest grief and fear and survive.
In Requiem, writes Amanda Haight, Akhmatova “has taken suffering to its limit and so there
is nothing to fear.”

Major Themes

Requiem has been called an elegy, a poem of memorial and mourning, for the people of
Russia. Critic Sam Driver wrote in 1990 that the work was conceived by the poet as “a
combination of the epic and the lyric.” Constructed as a lament for the people of Russia, its
scale is simultaneously enormous and intimate: although it chronicles a nearly
unfathomable episode of terror and persecution in a specific historic time period, it is
characterized by short, almost episodic pieces of verse. Not incidentally, even this
characteristic of structure is integral to the work's thematic core: the short elements that
comprise the work as a whole are of such length that they could be committed to memory
in a short period of time and carried, in secret, in the hearts of those for whom it had
meaning. This is how the work was preserved for several decades by the poet and her
closest confidants; the danger of being caught with such words on paper was considered
too great by Akhmatova. The composition of the poem in this manner is representative of
the ways in which the Russian people communicated with each other and offered one
another support and assistance during the years of the Stalinist regime: in secret, in veiled
language, and without a trail of evidence that could be used in further persecution.

Although the work is recognizable as an epic lament for a particular people in response to
specific circumstances of history, Akhmatova couches references to actual times and places
in such a way that the work transcends its era and becomes a universal and timeless voice
for the victims of persecution anywhere and any time. Images evoked by the poet's words
—for example, women waiting wearily outside prisons for word from loved ones, their
faces ravaged by raw grief and fear—may be visualized as belonging to a particular episode
of Russian history. Yet they also possess a timelessness that allows them to serve as icons
of the universality of human cruelty and human pain. Throughout this work, Akhmatova
explores the role of the poet as the voice of truth, and the role of poetry, the language of
both suffering and redemption, as a weapon of resistance and solidarity. Thematically, the
poem also honors love and remembrance as forces that transcend evil and empower the
powerless.

Critical Reception

Akhmatova's Requiem is considered to be one of the most significant works of her long

career. Until it appeared in print for the first time in the 1960s, Akhmatova's considerable
reputation as a poet had been based primarily on the love poems she composed during her
youth, and on her role as a founding member of the Acmeist school. She had fallen from
favor in her own country, and been virtually forgotten by readers and critics elsewhere.
Following the death of Stalin in 1953, Akhmatova gradually felt more secure and safe as a
poet in her homeland, and her work was tolerated, though not celebrated, by the Soviet
leadership. Her literary voice was renewed, and her works once again came to the attention
of scholars and critics. In the years prior to her death works such as Requiem and Poema
bez geroya (1960; Poem without a Hero) saw publication, and a new body of work emerged
for critical scrutiny. National and international critics had lauded Akhmatova's early works
for their blend of graceful language and complex classical Russian forms of poetry. As the
full breadth of her achievement became visible and was published first in Russian and then
in translation throughout the world, she was recognized as not only one of the few poets of
her generation to survive to old age in her country, but as one of the most accomplished
Russian poets of the twentieth century. Sam Driver notes that in Requiem, in particular,
Akhmatova managed to “generalize her own shattering experience into an epic cry for her
people.” The work is accepted as one of the masterpieces of her career, and it continues to
receive critical attention, not simply as an example of laudable art emerging from the fire of
persecution, but as a carefully crafted masterwork composed by a master poet.

Understanding the Poem Cycle "Requiem" by Anna Akhmatova

Anna Akhmatova's poem "Requiem" can be difficult to fully grasp. The poem is considered
a poem "cycle" or "sequence" because it is made up of a collection of shorter poems. These
poems are not meant to be read in isolation, but together as part of one cohesive longer
work.

Akhmatova lived in Russia during Stalin's reign of terror. Her poems seek to bear witness
to the oppressive silence during that time. The "Requiem" cycle was written as a response
to the imprisonment of Akhmatova's son, during which time she stood in a line outside of
the jail every day for seventeen months waiting for news. One day, a women in the crowd
recognized her, and asked her to write a poem about the experience. "Requiem" is the
response to the woman's request.

In the poem, Akhmatova addresses many themes, including religion, the desperation and
hopelessness of war, censorship and silencing, grief, and whether it is possible to maintain
hope in the midst of darkness. "Requiem" is Akhmatova's best known work, considered by
many to be her magnum opus, or masterpiece.

Preface, Prologue and Dedication

"Requiem" begins with the idea that humanity has been erased for the narrator and others
who wait endlessly outside the prison.

“Instead of a Preface” links these people together through shared experience. The woman
who has recognized Akhmatova makes an expression that is “something like a smile,”
passing “over what had once been her face.”

We are painted a picture of a life that has had the humanity stripped of it, there is no longer
joyful expression, just a “torpor” shared by all, even expression at all as communication can
only come through whisper. The woman has never “of course” heard Akhmatova called by
name, identity has been stripped away as well as humanity.

This idea follows into “Dedication,” in which the sentiment that has begun is solidified, the
prison waiters are “less live than dead.” In such a life that is not a life, the question is then is
there room for the divine, and if so how can there be without room for humanity?
The prison line is compared to an early mass in Dedication, as the prison waiters rise early
and then congregate there. In this sense, religion has been replace with a stark reality.
Rather than church and religion being the means of hope, salvation, and a beacon of
comfort, only the news of incarcerated loved ones has any bearing on their lives.

The “Prologue” shows redemption or “deliverance” only for the dead, for it is they who are
able to smile, unlike their loved ones condemned wait in an earthly “hell."

Poems I - X

The cycle then continues with "I", which sets up the comparison of Akhmatova’s son to
Jesus. As the son is taken away, she walks behind as if it is a funeral procession. With
references to a “dark room,” the holy candle not having oxygen to burn, chill lips, it
becomes clear that the son is not simply just taken, he has already been sacrificed and
entombed within the prison.

"Dawn" is when the son is taken away, the next stanza’s move the poem forward through
evening (yellow moon slipping into the house), where she beseeches an unnamed “you” to
pray for her, a strand of connection to others in the midst of isolation. Then we move to
night, figuratively. This is the darkest point of the poem. Akhmatova speaks of loneliness,
isolation, grief, the lack of meaningful religious symbols, all as symptoms of an
overwhelming lack of hope.

Yet the poem continues, and "VII" describes the narrator as “still living.” At this point she
points out the fact that at some point she must move on with life, “prepare to live again.”
However, in order to do so, the memory and pain must somehow be “killed,” her heart
turned “to stone.” It is only by banishing these emotions does she feel she can once again
have hope, regain her humanity, and once again engage in living life. The narrator is aware
that this death or banishment is necessary, but wonders how the process can actually
occur, and if it is indeed possible to banish so much grief.

In "VIII," it appears that she feels unable to kill memory and go on, and simply waits and
wishes for death. Death is the only comfort now.

"IX" she “admits defeat,” which has already been insinuated by "VIII." At this point there is
“no use to fall down on my knees,” no use to either beg for compassion or clemency, or even
to pray.

Yet in "X" religious metaphor again makes reappearance, with the crucifixion aspect. The
focus is shifted from the suffering of Christ to the emotions of the women who watched this
scene of crucifixion.
Epilogue

The epilogue brings back the sense of community or shared suffering introduced at the
outset. The main body of the poem described a very individual experience, yet here we are
reminded of the others outside the jail. Prayer again has a role, and is more than simply a
plea for prayer but the sentiment that the narrator will pray for both herself and others.

In the depth of her suffering, in the depths of her alienation, there was no room for the
divine, yet at this point it can exist. While a point of healing may not have been reached yet,
at least a sort of coping has become tangible.

The narrator now has a sense of purpose, to be the witness for the crowds of people that
would otherwise be erased into a nameless faceless blur, devoid of identity, of voice for
what has transpired. The task of bearing witness gives the narrator a sense of greater
meaning, allowing for the divine in a way that the darkest points did not. As the poem
chronicles this period of her life, so too does it chronicle the ebbing and rising tides of the
divine within the entire experience of the "Requiem" cycle.

Nana

Summary

Monsieur Fauchery, a journalist, arrives at the Variety Theater thirty minutes early because
his cousin Hector de la Faloise is excited about seeing a new production entitled The Blond
Venus. There is a general air of anticipation awaiting the appearance of a new actress
named Nana, who will play the role of Venus.

Bordenave, the producer of the play, meets the two young men and embarrasses the naive
la Faloise by insisting that the theater be called a whorehouse. He describes his new actress
Nana, as a cheap whore "who sings like a crow" and "has no notion what to do with her
hands and feet." However, he is confident that both Nana and the show will be a success
because "Nana has something else, something as good as all the other things put together."

Monsieur Mignon appears with the wealthy German-Jew banker, Steiner, who is having an
affair with Mignon's wife Rose, the leading actress. Mignon, who arranges his wife's love
affairs, tries to lead Steiner away from the discussion about Nana. A handsome young man,
Daguenet, passes the group and is identified as Nana's lover. Count Xavier de Vandeuvres
comes forward to speak to Fauchery just as a crowd on the street begins to chant Nana's
name. Everyone goes to his seat to await the curtain. While waiting, Fauchery identifies
many of the famous courtesans seated in the boxes. Fauchery is surprised when la Faloise
greets the famous Count and Countess Muffat de Beuville and her father, the Marquis de
Chouard.

The first act of The Blond Venus begins. Rose Mignon, as Diana, complains that Mars has
been neglecting her in favor of Venus. Others appear and complain that Venus is causing
various troubles between lovers. Only at the end of the first act does Nana appear. She does
sing badly and has no concept of how to conduct herself onstage. Just as the audience
begins to hiss and shout, a young boy cries out, "She's wonderful." Both the audience and
Nana laugh. Suddenly, Nana gains control of the audience and no one cares if she has no
talent because "she has something else."

At intermission, everyone agrees that the production is idiotic, but the main subject is
Nana. Several people think they have seen her somewhere, yet no one can make a positive
identification. The audience is delighted with the second act. All of the gods from Mount
Olympus, dressed incognito, are seen in a Parisian dance hall. Nana is disguised as a
fishwife and delights the audience with her natural earthiness.

At the second intermission, la Faloise pays his respects to Countess Muffat. He introduces
his cousin Fauchery, who is received with cold dignity by the count. The countess, however,
invites him to accompany la Faloise next Tuesday to their ancestral home. After they take
their leave, they meet a streetwalker named Satin who is so vulgar that she is sometimes
amusing.

The third act begins and a tremor runs through the audience when Nana appears: "Nana
was nude. With quiet audacity, she appeared in her nakedness, certain of the sovereign
power of her flesh. Some gauze enveloped her, but her rounded shoulders, her Amazonian
bosom, her wide hips, which swayed to and fro voluptuously, her whole body, in fact, could
be divined . . . in all its foamlike whiteness of tint, beneath the slight fabric she wore. . . . The
good natured girl was suddenly transformed into a voluptuous woman who brought with
her the delirium of sex and opened the gates of the unknown world of desire."
Furthermore, the audience had never before witnessed such a passionate seduction scene
on the stage. No one on the stage now mattered except Nana: "A wave of lust flowed from
her, as from an animal in heat."

After the play, the audience leaves with mixed emotions. La Faloise assures Bordenave that
the play will be highly successful.
Analysis

Nana is a part of a large series of novels that Zola was at the time writing called the
Rougon-Macquart series, which consists of twenty novels published between 1871 and
1898. Nana is the ninth novel in the series and was published in 1880. In general, the series
is a rather loosely connected group of novels which depict varying aspects of life during the
second empire in France. Even though the title of the series suggests that the novels will
deal with two families, this is not so. There are, however, some points of connection
between certain novels in the group. For example, Nana is the daughter of Gervaise
Macquart, whose husband died of alcoholism while she died of starvation in the
novel L'Assommoir (1877). Several times during the novel Nana makes a reference to the
background from which she emerged.

In its largest sense, Nana fits into the Rougon-Macquart series as depicting an influential

aspect of the second empire. Zola thought that his series would not be complete unless he
showed the role which prostitution played in the collapse of the empire. Consequently, the
reader should note how much moralizing and condemnation is present in the novel. Zola,
dropping his scientific objectivity, often describes his main character and her activities so
as to show how thoroughly sexual disorders affect a nation.

Throughout the entire novel, the reader should be aware of how often the individual
chapters are filled with crowd scenes. Perhaps no writer of the nineteenth century filled his
novels with so many scenes of such great diversity. Few writers can equal Zola in his ability
to render the emotion gripping an entire mass of people. This ability is amply illustrated in
the first chapter of the novel, as Nana stands on the stage in her nudity and entrances an
entire audience of diverse people. On an initial reading, Zola's beginning offers much
difficulty for the inexperienced reader since he refuses to focus his attention on one
dominant character. But his intent is to try to capture as much as possible the diverse
elements which succumb to the spell of Nana's sexuality.

The manner in which Zola casually introduces most of his main characters attests to the
careful planning that went into the novel. A cursory review of the characters and their
ultimate destinies will substantiate the artistic unity of the novel. The first characters to
appear are Fauchery and his cousin Hector de la Faloise. Later Fauchery is to write a good
review of Nana's initial performance; still later he will write a condemnation of her ("The
Golden Fly"); he will also become the lover to the wife of Nana's lover. La Faloise will later
be delighted to be ruined by Nana. Steiner is introduced in the presence of the Mignons and
later his entire fortune will collapse under Nana's destructive desire. Count Xavier de
Vandeuvres will commit suicide when Nana has devoured his fortune. Both the Count and
Countess Muffat de Beuville will be utterly ruined because of Nana, and the final ruin will
be brought about by the discovery of the old Marquis de Chouard, who is now seen sitting
with his daughter and son-in-law. Georges Hugon, who will later stab himself, is seen as the
enthusiastic admirer during the performance.

The picture of the Count Muffat sitting icy cold and distant with his family contrasts well to
the final degradation to which he is brought. This is foreshadowed by the manner in which
Count Muffat reacts to Nana's appearance in the third act of the drama. His puritan
righteousness is replaced by deep blotches of passionate red all over his face.

Besides the emphasis on the mass reaction of the audience, Nana's sexuality is equally
emphasized. The entire novel will concern itself with the sexual desires aroused by the
physical appearance of Nana's voluptuous body. We must throughout the rest of the novel
be constantly aware that there are two Nanas. One is the simple girl of the streets who
seems to possess no particular or outstanding attributes, but the other is that symbolic
Nana who represents all the sexuality inherent throughout society. The first Nana is
simpleminded and gives herself to anyone at any time. The other Nana is the voluptuous
incarnation of the love goddess, Venus, who reclines on sumptuous beds costing a small
fortune and who evokes hitherto latent urges in everyone.

The above idea is first formulated by the theatrical production in the first chapter. The
Blond Venus is the symbol of all that Nana is to become. First of all, the play uses the
classical goddess of love who had degenerated in modern society to become no more than
the goddess of eroticism. Likewise the content of the play, which Zola narrates in detail,
foreshadows what is to happen to the entire society. The play suggests that the gods of
Mount Olympus will be involved in all sorts of scandals and will be revealed in all of their
absurdities. The gods lose their dignity and are dragged through the filth of corruption.
Furthermore, the audience enjoys seeing "this carnival of gods . . . being dragged in the
mud." Later, people like la Faloise consider it an honor to be ruined by Nana, and the entire
society seems to get some vicarious satisfaction in Nana's completely corrupting influence.

Nana's initial appearance on the stage suggests how talent and ability are insignificant in
the presence of something more important — Nana's sexuality. In the final act when Nana
appears naked (and Zola emphasizes Nana's nudity), we understand instantly how Nana is
able to mesmerize her audience by her physical presence. Without being aware of what she
was doing, Nana arouses animal lust in the beholder. The casual descriptions suggesting
the animal instincts aroused by Nana will become a dominant motif throughout the novel.
In fact, almost every naturalistic writer emphasizes some aspect of the animal nature
inherent in every human being. This idea rises to its climax in Chapter 13 when Nana forces
Count Muffat to conduct himself like a vulgar beast.
From the ironic view, The Blond Venus becomes the theme song of the entire empire, and
since Bordenave repeatedly insists that his theater be called his "whorehouse," we can
subtly see the connection that Zola is implying. The audience is composed of the best of
society, and this group becomes corrupt as it comes under Nana's influence. Consequently,
the song is appropriate as the theme song for the entire generation because
Nana does intrude into every aspect of society in one way or another.

Summary Nana

After opening night, Nana sleeps late in the apartment provided for her by a rich Moscow
merchant who had paid the first six months' rent. The apartment "told the story of a girl too
early abandoned by her first serious protector."

When Nana awakens, she calls her maid, Zoé, and they make arrangements for Nana's two
paying visitors. The arrangements must allow time for Daguenet to sleep with Nana. Of
more serious consequence is the fact that Nana is now nine months behind in her rent.
Other creditors are also plaguing her. Her greatest worry is her two-year-old child, Louis,
who is with a wet nurse whom Nana has never been able to pay. Her Aunt Lerat is
supposed to go that day and get little Louis, but Nana needs three hundred francs to pay the
nurse. Just as she is about to despair, Madame Tricon, a procuress, arrives with a
proposition whereby Nana can receive four hundred francs. Nana accepts with relief.

Francis, Nana's hairdresser, arrives with Fauchery's favorable review of The Blond
Venus. She is pleased and decides she will repay the critic someday. An elderly friend,
Madame Maloir, arrives, and the three women talk until it is time for Nana to keep her
appointment. While Nana is away, admirers from the preceding evening begin to arrive.
These include such diverse people as the young seventeen-year-old Georges Hugon, the
rich banker Steiner, and the aloof Count Muffat de Beuville with his father-in-law, the
Marquis de Chouard. So many people arrive that Zoé has difficulty finding places to put
them.

Nana is so late returning from her engagement that her aunt has to postpone the trip. She
gives her aunt three hundred fifty francs and keeps only fifty for herself, explaining that the
afternoon's experience was exceptionally difficult. She refuses to see any of her admirers
until she learns about the count and the marquis. She receives them in her dressing room.

With attempts at formal dignity, the count explains that they represent a charity committee
collecting money for the poor in the district. Nana notices that each man is visibly excited
by her presence, and as she gives them her last fifty francs the count trembles as he takes
the money from Nana's soft sensuous hands. As they leave, the count feels "dizzy from
having been in that small dressing room with its overpowering odor of woman and
flowers."

Nana then tells Zoé to send the rest of the callers away, even the rich banker, Steiner,
because she is tired of men. As she opens the door to a small unfurnished room, she
discovers young Georges Hugon sitting on a trunk holding a bouquet of flowers. As Nana
takes the flowers, Georges tries to embrace her. Nana scolds him mildly and sends him
away.

Alone in her dressing room, Nana hears that admirers are arriving constantly. Even though
she still refuses to see any of the men, she is delighted to have so many come to pay court to
her. She borrows a hundred francs from her hairdresser, giving as security for the loan the
obvious presence of numerous admirers. As she leaves for the theater, she looks forward to
sleeping an entire night alone.

Analysis

Chapter 2 shifts from the public view of Nana and shows her in her own private
surroundings. Nana's apartment tells the story of the type of person that she is. There is a
gaudy luxury about it which indicates the career of a girl who has to accept lovers of any
sort in order to keep the apartment.

Throughout the novel, there is a certain aura of comic confusion as Nana must constantly
make arrangements to keep one lover from running into another one. The morning after
the theatrical performance, Nana is mostly concerned about how she can keep her two
paying customers away long enough so that she can enjoy sleeping with Paul Daguenet,
who just lost his fortune in a drop in the stock market. The introduction of Daguenet's
name as Nana's lover prepares the reader for one of the many interrelations throughout
the novel. Later, she will use her influence with Count Muffat to arrange for her lover
Daguenet to marry Count Muffat's daughter, Estelle.

The arrangements that Nana makes become a type of motif which is picked up by many of
the courtesans in the novel. The quick letter to lovers — "Sorry darling, not tonight,
impossible" — is constantly being sent to a non-paying lover when paying customers show
up. Nana must send this type of letter that day to Daguenet, who has just left her bed.

Regularly in the novel, the scene will shift from a large crowd scene to a scene in Nana's
bedroom. This chapter, therefore, opens in Nana's bedroom as she arranges her lovers and
receives her hairdresser. Another constant worry to Nana is the matter of small sums of
money. She seems to get large sums of money from people, but she is constantly without
small sums with which to pay tradesmen. Today, she needs only three hundred francs in
order to pay the wet nurse who is taking care of her young son. But she can't find this sum.
Whenever this happens in the novel, Nana always resorts to either going on the streets and
picking up someone or else contacting Madame Tricon, a famous procuress. This time,
Madame Tricon appears just as Nana needs the money and tells Nana of a chance to pick up
four hundred francs that afternoon. Thus, by this method, Nana is always able to solve her
temporary need for small amounts of money.

When Francis brings in the review of The Blond Venus, Nana feels very appreciative to
Fauchery and casually thinks that she will repay him someday. This is just another case of
Zola's irony because later Fauchery will write a bitterly sarcastic piece about Nana, and
later she will repay him by taking him on as lover and causing him to sell some valuable
property to provide her with money.

The appearance of Madame Tricon is part of Zola's total picture of the corruption of the
age. More ironical is the fact that Zoé stays with Nana in the hope of saving enough money
so that she can someday take over a business like Madame Tricon's.

Several of the people who will become Nana's lovers at various stages appear that day to
congratulate her on her performance. Among these are Georges Hugon, the young boy who
called out during the performance that Nana was wonderful; Steiner, the fat German-Jew
banker who is later to be ruined by Nana; and most important, Count Muffat and his father-
in-law, the Marquis de Chouard.

Zola uses many instances of irony here as he has Nana return from her engagement with a
paying customer then to receive a supplication from Count Muffat for a donation to the
poor in the district. The donation which Nana gives is the last fifty francs she had just
earned through prostitution Further irony involves the fact that in their first encounter she
gives Count Muffat fifty francs; later she will take hundreds of thousands from him.

The attention paid to Muffat reveals that beneath his stiff dignity, he is seething with
passion for Nana's body. Each time he is around her, Zola uses the same image and
description to depict his inner state: "He needed air; he was overcome from a dizziness
from having been in that small dressing room with its overpowering essence of woman and
flowers." These images suggest that he will later be totally captivated by Nana's sexuality,
and most of his encounters with Nana will like this one be either in small theater dressing
rooms or in Nana's dressing room.

Since so many callers have come, Zoé has been sticking them into all available space. Nana,
now tired from her afternoon's experiences, seeks a place to be alone and discovers young
Georges Hugon in one of the rooms. Even though Nana is only eighteen years old, she
considers the seventeen-year-old Georges to be a mere child. But she responds here
spontaneously to his gift of flowers even though she will not let him embrace her.
Henceforward, he will become one of her most devoted admirers until he stabs himself in
the final chapters. But we must notice that, with both Daguenet and Georges, Nana is
capable of responding spontaneously to another person even though she usually sells
herself. By these responses, Zola tends to humanize Nana and not leave her just a symbol of
corruption. These responses tend to make Nana a more believable and likable character in
spite of her characteristics.

Zola, the strict naturalist and objective writer, does seem at times to entertain romantic
notions. It does not seem highly realistic that so many people are "lined up on the stairs"
waiting to pay their adulation to Nana. Zola's point, however, is to suggest the degree to
which Nana has already captivated the public after one appearance.

Summary the hunchback of Notre Dame

During the 1482 Festival of Fools in Paris, Quasimodo, the hunchback of Notre Dame, is
elected the Pope of Fools for being the ugliest person in Paris. He is hoisted on a throne and
paraded around Paris by the jeering mob. Pierre Gringoire, a struggling poet and
philosopher, tries unsuccessfully to get the crowd to watch his play instead of the parade.
Archdeacon Claude Frollo appears and stops the parade and orders Quasimodo back to
Notre Dame with him. Looking for something to eat, Gringoire admires the graceful beauty
of La Esmerelda, a gypsy street dancer, and decides to follow her home. After rounding a
corner, she is suddenly attacked by Quasimodo and Frollo. Gringoire rushes to help her but
is knocked out by Quasimodo as Frollo runs away. The King's Archers, led by Phoebus de
Chateaupers arrive just in time and capture the hunchback. Later that night, a group of
beggars and thieves are about to hang Gringoire when La Esmerelda comes forward and
offers to save his life by "marrying" him for four years only.
The next day, Quasimodo is put on trial and sentenced to two hours of torture in the Place
de Grève. He suffers both the pain of being stretched and pulled apart as well as being
publicly humiliated by the crowd of people, who hate him for his ugliness. He begs for
water, but no one answers his pleas until La Esmerelda comes forth and brings him
something to drink. Nearby, a recluse called Sister Gudule, screams at La Esmerelda for
being a "gypsy child- thief" and blames her for her daughter's kidnapping fifteen years
earlier. A few months later, La Esmerelda is dancing in front of Notre Dame and Phoebus
calls her over to him. She has fallen in love with him and blushes when he asks her to meet
him later that night. Frollo watches them from the top of Notre Dame and becomes insanely
jealous of Phoebus. His obsessive lust for La Esmerelda has made him renounce God and
study alchemy and black magic. In his secret cell at Notre Dame, he plans to trap La
Esmerelda like a spider catching a fly with its web. Later that night he follows Phoebus to
his tryst with La Esmerelda and stabs Phoebus repeatedly. He escapes and La Esmerelda is
captured by the King's guard.
After being tortured at her trial, La Esmerelda falsely confesses to killing Phoebus and
being a witch. She is sentenced to hang in the Place de Grève. Frollo visits her in jail and
declares his love. He begs her to love him and show him some pity but she calls him a
"goblin-monk" and a murderer, refusing to have anything to do with him. Before her
execution, La Esmerelda is publicly humiliated in front of Notre Dame. Looking across the
square, she suddenly sees Phoebus and calls out his name. He actually survived the murder
attempt but doesn't want anyone to know that he was injured. He turns away from La
Esmerelda and enters the house of his bride-to-be. Just then, Quasimodo swings down on a
rope from Notre Dame and carries her back to the cathedral, crying out "Sanctuary!" He
had fallen in love with her when she brought him water and had been planning her escape
all along.
La Esmerelda is safe from execution just as long as she stays inside the cathedral. At first,
she finds it hard to even look at Quasimodo, but they form an uneasy friendship. Even
though he is deaf, he enjoys being around her when she sings. Meanwhile, a group of
vagabonds resolves to save La Esmerelda after hearing that Parliament has ordered that
she be removed from Notre Dame. But when Quasimodo sees them attack the cathedral, he
thinks they have come to kill La Esmerelda and he fends them off as best he can, killing a
large number of them. Frollo has used the attack as a diversion to sneak La Esmerelda out
of the cathedral. He offers her two choices: she can either say she loves him or be hanged.
She demands to be executed and he leaves her with Sister Gudule. To their astonishment,
they discover that they are mother and daughter. Gudule tries to protect La Esmerelda, but
it is too late. Back at Notre Dame, Quasimodo goes to the top of the north tower to find her.
Gazing off into the distance, he sees the figure of La Esmerelda in a white dress hanging
from the scaffold. He bellows out in despair and grabs Frollo by the neck. Holding him up in
the air, Quasimodo sighs with grief and then throws Frollo down to his death. Looking at La
Esmerelda hanging off in the distance and Frollo's wrangled corpse down below,
Quasimodo cries out: "There is everything I ever loved!" Quasimodo is never seen again.
Years later when a gravedigger stumbles across La Esmerelda's remains, he finds the
skeleton of a hunchback curled around her.

The Brothers Karamazov

By his first wife, Fyodor Karamazov sired one son — Dmitri — and by his second wife, two
sons — Ivan and Alyosha. None of the Karamazov, boys, however, was reared in the family
home. Their mothers dead and their father a drunken fornicator, they were parceled out to
various relatives. Fyodor could not have been more grateful; he could devote all energy and
time to his notorious orgies. Those were the early years.

Dmitri comes of age, as the novel opens, and asks his father for an inheritance that, he has
long been told, his mother left him. His request is scoffed at. Old Karamazov feigns
ignorance of any mythical monies or properties that are rightfully Dmitri's. The matter is
far from ended, though, for Dmitri and his father find themselves instinctive enemies, and
besides quarreling over the inheritance, they vie for Grushenka, a woman of questionable
reputation. Finally it is suggested that if there is to be peace in the Karamazov household,
the family must go together to the monastery and allow Alyosha's elder, Father Zossima, to
arbitrate and resolve the quarrels. Ivan, Karamazov's intellectual son, accompanies them to
the meeting.

At the monastery, there seems to be little hope for a successful reconciliation. Fyodor
parades his usual disgusting vulgarities, makes a dreadful scene, and when Dmitri arrives
late, he accuses his son of all sorts of degeneracy. Dmitri then retorts that his father has
tried to lure Grushenka into a liaison by promising her 3,000 rubles, and in the midst of
their shouting, Father Zossima bows and kisses Dmitri's feet. This act ends the interview.
All are shocked into silence. Later, old Karamazov recovers from his astonishment and once
again he makes a disgraceful scene in the dining room of the Father Superior. He then
leaves the monastery and commands Alyosha to leave also.

It is now that Dostoevsky reveals that Karamazov perhaps has fathered another son. Years
ago, a raggle-taggle moron girl who roamed the town was seduced and bore a child;
everyone, naturally, assumed that the satyr-like Karamazov was responsible. The child
grew up to be an epileptic and now cooks for Karamazov. He is a strange sort, this
Smerdyakov, and lately his epileptic seizures have become more frequent. Curiously, he
enjoys talking philosophy with Ivan.

The day after the explosive scene in the monastery, Alyosha comes to visit his father and is
stopped midway by Dmitri. The emotional, impulsive Karamazov son explains to Alyosha
that he is sick with grief — that some time ago, he became engaged to a girl named
Katerina, and has recently borrowed 3,000 rubles from her to finance an orgy with
Grushenka. He pleads for Alyosha to speak to Katerina, to break the engagement, and to
help him find some way to repay the squandered money so that he can feel free to elope
with Grushenka. Alyosha promises to help if he is able.

The young man reaches his father's house and finds more confusion: Smerdyakov is loudly
arguing with another servant about religion, spouting many of Ivan's ideas. Later, when the
servants are ordered away, Karamazov taunts Ivan and Alyosha about God and
immortality, and Ivan answers that he believes in neither. Alyosha quietly affirms the
existence of both. Dmitri then bursts into the room crying for Grushenka and when he
cannot find her, attacks his father and threatens to kill him.

Alyosha tends his father's wounds, then goes back to the monastery for the night. The next
day he goes to see Katerina, as he promised Dmitri, and tries to convince her that she and
Ivan love each other and that she should not concern herself with Dmitri and his problems.
He is unsuccessful.

Later that same day, Alyosha comes upon Ivan in a restaurant, and they continue the
conversation about God and immortality that they began at their father's house. Ivan says
that he cannot accept a world in which God allows so many innocent people to suffer and
Alyosha says that, although Ivan cannot comprehend the logic of God, there is One who can
comprehend all: Jesus. Ivan then explains, with his poem "The Grand Inquisitor," that Jesus
is neither a ready nor an easy answer-all for his questionings — that He placed an
intolerable burden on man by giving him total freedom of choice.

When Alyosha returns to the monastery, he finds Father Zossima near death. The elder
rallies a bit and lives long enough to expound his religious beliefs to his small audience,
stressing, above all, a life of simplicity, a life in which every man shall love all people and all
things, and shall refrain from condemning others. This is Zossima's final wisdom, and when
he finishes, he dies.

Next day many people gather to view the holy man's corpse, for popular rumor has
whispered for years that upon Zossima's death, a miracle would occur. No miracle occurs,
however. Instead, a foul and putrid odor fills the room, and all of the mourners are
horrified. Even Alyosha questions God's justice and, momentarily yielding to temptation, he
flees to Grushenka's house. But after he has talked with the girl, he discovers that she is not
the sinful woman he sought; she is remarkably sensitive and quite understanding and
compassionate. Alyosha's faith is restored and, later, in a dream of Jesus' coming to the
wedding of Cana, he realizes that life is meant to be joyously shared. Now he is absolutely
certain of his faith in God and in immortality.

Dmitri has meanwhile been frantically searching for a way to raise the money to repay
Katerina. He has even gone to a neighboring town to try and borrow the sum, but even
there he fails. Returning, lie discovers that Grushenka is no longer at home and panics, sure
that she has succumbed to Fyodor's rubles. He goes first to his father's house; then, after
discovering that she is not there, he tries to escape but is cornered by an old servant. He
strikes him aside, leaving him bloody and unconscious, and returns to Grushenka's house.
He demands to know her whereabouts and at last is told that she has gone to join a former
lover, one who deserted her five years before.

Dmitri makes a final decision: he will see Grushenka once more, for the last time, and then
kill himself. He travels to the couple's rendezvous, finds Grushenka celebrating with her
lover, and joins them. There is resentment and arguing, and finally Grushenka is convinced
that her former lover is a scoundrel and that it is Dmitri whom she really loves. The two
lovers are not to be reunited, however, for the police arrive and accuse Dmitri of murdering
his father. Both are stunned by the circumstantial evidence, for the accusation is weighty.
Dmitri indeed seems guilty and is indicted to stand trial.

Alyosha, in the meantime, has made friends with a young schoolboy, the son of a man
brutally beaten by Dmitri in a rage of passion and gradually the youth has proven his
sincere desire to help the frightened, avenging boy. Now that the youngster is dying,
Alyosha remains at his bedside, where he hopes to help the family and also to reconcile the
young boy with many of his schoolmates.

Ivan, the intellectual, has neither the romantic passion of Dmitri nor the wide, spiritual
interests of Alyosha, and when he learns of his father's murder, he broods, then decides to
discuss his theories with Smerdyakov. He is astonished at the bastard servant's open
confession that he is responsible for the murder. But Smerdyakov is clever; he disavows
total responsibility and maintains that Ivan gave him the intellectual and moral justification
for the murder and, furthermore, that he actually permitted the act by leaving town so that
Smerdyakov would be free to accomplish the deed. Ivan is slow to accept the argument but
after he does, he is absolutely convinced of Smerdyakov's logic. The transition is disastrous.
His newfound guilt makes him a madman and the night before Dmitri's trial, he is devoured
with burning brain fever. That same night, Smerdyakov commits suicide. Dmitri's situation
becomes increasingly perilous.

During the trial, the circumstantial evidence is presented in so thorough a manner that
Dmitri is logically convicted as Fyodor's murderer. He has the motive, the passion, and was
at the scene of the crime. Perhaps the most damning bit of evidence, however, is presented
by Katerina. She shows the court a letter of Dmitri's in which he says that he fears he might
be driven to murder his father.

After the conviction, Dmitri agrees to certain plans for his escape but says that it will be
great torture and suffering for him to flee from Mother Russia, from Russian soil, and to live
in exile.

As for Alyosha, his future holds the promise of hope and goodness (qualities that were once
never associated with the Karamazovs), for after young Ilusha dies and all his schoolmates
attend the funeral, Alyosha gathers them together and deeply impresses them with his
explanation of love and of friendship. Spontaneously, the boys rise and cheer Alyosha and
his wisdom.

Character Analysis Fyodor Karamazov

The father of the Karamazov brothers is a disgusting sensualist. He has virtually no

redeeming qualities. He is a self-centered man — corrupt and immoral — and is cynically
dedicated only to the fulfillment of his bestial appetites. He has married twice for selfish
reasons and has treated each wife with total disrespect. Little wonder, for a man who has
no respect for himself can respect no one else.

As is pointed out during Dmitri's trial, he was never, in the truest sense, a father to any of
his sons. When they were young, he was oblivious to their presence and relieved when
relatives took them away. Later, he refused to give any of them money, and although the
matter is not stated definitely in the novel, all indications suggest that he cheated Dmitri
out of a large portion of his mother's inheritance.

Fyodor's vulgarity is part and parcel of his every action; he lives the part of the vulgar
buffoon, delighting in embarrassing anyone in his presence. Not surprisingly, his
degeneration leads indirectly to his death; it was his seduction of the village idiot, "stinking
Lizaveta," that produced Smerdyakov, the strange epileptic who grew up as his father's
servant and then dispassionately slaughtered him.

Character Analysis Alyosha

The youngest son of Fyodor Karamazov embodies most of the positive actions in the novel.
From his early years onward, we learn that he is an easygoing youth whom everyone seems
to love. Unlike his brother Ivan, he is unconcerned with accepting charity or gifts from
others. Dostoevsky depicts him as the sort who would quickly give away any money that he
might possess.

Alyosha is no stock Christ-figure, however; of all the so-called good characters in

Dostoevsky's fiction, Alyosha seems to breathe the most life. This is partly due to the fact
that he constantly moves among people and performs quiet acts of kindness and love, even
though he is not always successful.
When we first meet Alyosha, he is a member of the monastery and a special disciple of the
religious elder, Father Zossima. As the story progresses, he becomes the living embodiment
of all of Zossima's teachings. His every action reflects the qualities that he learned from his
elder. For example, he refuses to condemn, he has an unusual ability to love all, and he has
great faith in the basic goodness of man.

Alyosha, however, did not come to this faith easily. His credibility as a character is equated
with his struggles to keep from losing his belief in God's justice. Particularly after Zossima
dies, he questions a God who would allow such a holy man as Zossima to be disgraced by a
rotting corpse, putrid and repulsive to his mourners. He rejects a justice that dishonors a
noble man for no logical reason. Then, after Alyosha begins his questionings, he is tempted
away from his monastic vows by eating forbidden food, drinking vodka, and being induced
to visit Grushenka, reputedly a sensuous, loose-moraled young woman. After the visit,
however, Alyosha discovers the great power of all that Zossima has preached. He feels deep
compassion for Grushenka, and because he refuses to condemn her, he restores her belief
in herself and in others. And, more important, Alyosha rediscovers his own faith in all its
encompassing magnitude.

Adding to Alyosha's credibility is his failure to convince adults of Zossima's message. His
role is not that of a perfect, all-successful young missionary. He has his share of failures. His
successes, though, are therefore all the more important. In particular, his dealings with
young boys are remarkable. He treats them as equals and they respond as equals, and we
are led to believe that Alyosha will preach and lecture and that Russia will learn from
young Karamazov's wisdom. Thereupon, Dostoevsky seems to be saying, the destiny of the
country will be the result of Alyosha's message of faith and love.

Book Summary The Outsiders 

The Outsiders is about two weeks in the life of a 14-year-old boy. The novel tells the story of
Ponyboy Curtis and his struggles with right and wrong in a society in which he believes
that he is an outsider.

Ponyboy and his two brothers — Darrel (Darry), who is 20, and Sodapop, who is 16 — have
recently lost their parents in an automobile accident. Pony and Soda are allowed to stay
under Darry's guardianship as long as they all behave themselves. The boys are greasers, a
class term that refers to the young men on the East Side, the poor side of town. The
greasers' rivals are the Socs, short for Socials, who are the "West-side rich kids."
The story opens with Pony walking home alone from a movie; he is stopped by a gang of
Socs who proceed to beat him up. The Socs badly injure and threaten to kill Ponyboy;
however, some of his gang happen upon the scene and run the Socs off. This incident sets
the tone for the rest of the story, because the event tells the reader that a fight between
these two groups needs no provocation.

The next night Pony and two other gang members, Dallas Winston (Dally) and Johnny Cade,
go to a drive-in movie. There they meet Sherri (Cherry) Valance and her friend Marcia, who
have left their Soc boyfriends at the drive-in because the boys were drinking. Dally leaves
after giving the girls a hard time, but another greaser, Two-Bit Mathews, joins Pony and
Johnny. The boys offer to walk the girls home after the movie, but along the way, the girls'
boyfriends reappear and threaten to fight the greasers. Cherry stops the fight from
happening, and the girls leave with their boyfriends.

Pony and Johnny go to a vacant lot to hang out before heading home. They fall asleep, and
when Johnny wakes Pony up it's 2 a.m. Pony runs home, because the time is way past his
curfew, and Darry is waiting up. Darry is furious with Pony and, in the heat of the moment,
he hits him. Pony runs out of the house and returns to the lot to find Johnny. Pony wants to
run away, but instead they go to the park to cool off before heading back home.

At the park, Cherry's and Marcia's boyfriends reappear. Pony and Johnny are outnumbered,
and the Socs grab Ponyboy and shove him face first into the fountain, holding his head
under the water. Realizing that Ponyboy is drowning, Johnny panics, pulls his switchblade,
and kills the Soc, Bob.

Ponyboy and Johnny seek out Dally for help in running away to avoid being arrested for
Bob's murder. He gives them $50 and directions to a hideout outside of town. The boys hop
a freight train and find the hideout where they are to wait until Dally comes for them.
Hiding in an abandoned, rural church, they feel like real outsiders, with their greased, long
hair and general hoody appearance. They both cut their hair, and Pony colors his for a
disguise. They pass the time in the church playing cards and reading aloud from Gone with
the Wind.

Dally shows up after a week, and takes them to the Dairy Queen in Windrixville. Thanks to
Dally, the police think that the boys are headed for Texas. Dally also brings them the news
that Cherry Valance is now being a spy for the greasers, and helping them out against the
Socs. She has also testified that Bob was drunk the night of his death and that she was sure
that the killing had been in self-defense.

Johnny decides that he has a chance now, and announces that he wants to turn himself in.
They head back to the church and discover that it is on fire. A school group is there,
apparently on some kind of outing, and little kids are trapped inside. Without thinking,
Pony and Johnny race inside and rescue the kids. As they are handing the kids outside to
Dally, the burning roof collapses. Pony barely escapes, but a piece of timber falls on Johnny,
burning him badly and breaking his back. The boys, now viewed as heroes, are taken via
ambulance back to town, where Pony reunites with his brothers.

Johnny dies of his injuries. Dally is overcome with grief, and he robs a grocery store. He
flees the police and calls the gang from a telephone booth, asking them to pick him up in the
vacant lot and take him to a hiding place. The police chase Dally to the lot, and as the gang
watches, Dally pulls a "black object" from his waistband and the officers shoot him.

The senselessness of all the violent events traumatizes Pony, but he deals with his grief and
frustration by writing this book for all of the "Dallys" in the world.

Critical Essays Themes in The Outsiders

As the title suggests, The Outsiders is a theme in itself. Looking at life as an outsider and
feeling as though one is being treated as an outsider is a matter of perspective or point of
view. Someone who always feels like an outsider may conclude that life is unfair.

Adolescence is a time when teenagers may consider themselves to be adults, but in reality
teens are still under the control of others. Parents, teachers, and other authority figures are
always telling them how to live their lives. This loss of control inevitably leads to the feeling
that life isn't fair. For example, Ponyboy knows that he is not safe walking the streets in his
own neighborhood. He could be attacked solely because of the way he is dressed; he feels
like an outsider in his own town. His feelings of powerlessness and vulnerability lead him
to conclude that life is not fair.

Ponyboy sees injustice on a daily basis. His parents are dead, Darry is forced to work two
jobs to support the brothers, Soda has dropped out of school, and the greasers are looked
upon as "white trash." He explains that the gang warfare is actually warfare between the
economic classes. Because he is from the poor, East Side of town, his place in life is unfairly
predetermined.

The evolution of the family relationships is a recurrent theme in the novel. Family
relationships are strained during the teen years, but in the Curtis family, the right to stay
together as a family is a constant struggle. Since the death of their parents, Darry has
assumed the responsibility of guardianship for Pony and Soda, and under that pressure he
has aged beyond his years. He no longer views the two boys as siblings, but rather as a
responsibility. Darry recognizes Ponyboy's potential and has high expectations for him.
Ponyboy complains that Darry is a stricter disciplinarian than his father, but by the end of
the book he understands Darry's role: "Darry is a good guardian; he makes me study and
knows where I am and who I'm with all the time. . . . My father didn't yell at me as much as
he does."

Pony struggles with his expectations for Soda. He is self-conscious about the fact that Soda
has dropped out of school, and he wants him to finish his education. Soda did not do well in
school, did not like school, and is perfectly content to work in a gas station — a job he loves.
Soda also believes that he is doing the right thing by helping to support his family. Pony
doesn't care about any of those facts; he just wants Soda to go back to school. Gang
relationships are included in the theme of family love. Ponyboy's gang members need the
support and security that they find in the gang. The home life situations that these boys
find themselves in are often abusive. They have turned to the gang for the love and support
that should have come from parents.

Johnny is painfully aware of the difference between the gang and a family and through him
Pony begins to understand how lucky he is to have caring family members: "I don't know
what it was about Johnny — maybe that lost-puppy look and those big scared eyes were
what made everyone his big brother. . . . I thought about it for a minute — Darry and
Sodapop were my brothers and I loved both of them . . . they were my real brothers, not just
sort of adopted ones." Pony's eventual ability to appreciate his family shows his growth.

The third major theme that runs through The Outsiders is the use of colors in a black and
white world. Adolescents have a tendency to embrace people and events as absolutes. For
example, someone or something is either right or wrong; there can be no middle ground.
The characters in The Outsiders are either Socs or greasers. People are either rich or poor,
good or bad. Hinton descriptively uses color throughout the book to define and add depth
to the characters in their environments.

Early in the book, she associates warm colors with the Socs and cool colors with the
greasers. Warmth usually is equated with inside and cool is associated with outside, and
the colors reflect the characters' positions in society: The greasers view the Socs as insiders
and themselves as outsiders.

Using many descriptive colors, Hinton paints the greasers as outsiders. In her original
descriptions of Ponyboy's gang, she uses cool colors: Ponyboy's eyes are greenish-gray,
Darry's eyes "are like two pieces of pale blue-green ice," Dally's eyes are "blue, blazing ice,
cold with a hatred," and Two-Bit Mathews has gray eyes.

Dally is the exception to the rule, "His hair was almost white it was so blond." White
contains all of the visible rays of the color spectrum. It is a crossover color that cannot be
affiliated with anyone or anything, so it is interesting that Dally, who was "tougher than the
rest of us — tougher, colder, meaner," was the one with white/blond hair.

White is also used many times throughout the novel to describe fright, "white as a ghost."
The color white symbolizes the internalization that there are no absolutes in the world. To
realize that people and events may not be purely right or wrong, good or bad, can be
frightening. Dally's white hair exemplifies this concept. Dally appears to be the
stereotypical hood: cold, hard, and mean. But he is not that extreme persona. Just like the
color white contains all the colors of the spectrum, Dally's character covers a broad
spectrum. In addition to his cold, mean image, he is Johnny's hero, he is the one who
literally gave Pony the coat off his back, he helped to save the children from the fire, and he
was a scared boy who reached out to the Curtis brothers when he most needed help at the
end of his life.

Throughout the book, Pony matures and grows in his ability to see the full spectrum, to
stop dividing the world into black and white, good and bad, insiders and outsiders, greasers
and Socs. Pony's fascination with sunsets at the beginning of the book and, later, his
appreciation of the countryside around the church hideout ("I loved to look at the colors of
the fields and the soft shadings of the horizon") symbolize this development of his
character. A sub-theme within this story is the power of three. Three is a cardinal number
that is common in American literature and folklore, and to find it as a pivotal theme in this
story is not surprising. Americans have grown up with stories such as Goldilocks and the
Three Bears and The Three Little Pigs. The Holy Trinity is a major doctrine of the Christian
faith.

The three Curtis brothers working together have the power to save their family. Three
greasers working together save the lives of children trapped by fire. And the three rings on
the fist of a Soc change Johnny's life forever, and ultimately lead to three deaths: Bob's,
Johnny's, and Dally's.

The Caucasian Chalk Circle Summary

It is the summer of 1945. Amidst the ruins of a Caucasian village which has been decimated
by the Second World War, the members of two Collective Farms meet with a delegation
sent from the State Reconstruction Commission. The Collective Goat Farm Rosa
Luxemburg, forced to vacate their lush valley when Hitler’s armies approached, now want
their land back. Meanwhile, the Collective Fruit Farm Galinsk wants the valley assigned to
them. Members from each farm present their case to the delegation, and finally a member
of the Fruit Farm Galinsk announces plans for an enormous project to irrigate the valley,
grow more fruit, and plant vineyards. She shows her blueprints to the delegation, who
marvel at the ambitious plans. Even the Rosa Luxemburg farmers agree that the valley
should go to the fruit farmers, as they will put the land to better use. The delegation, along
with the members of both farms, decide to spend the night celebrating this triumph of
reason with a performance from the renowned singer Arkadi Tscheidse. Arkadi arrives and
announces that he will perform an updated version of a very old Chinese legend called The
Chalk Circle.

The play-within-a-play begins as Arkadi tells of a wealthy governor, Georgi Abashwili,who

rules a city in Grunisia with his beautiful, vain wife Natella and pampered infant
son Michael at his side. Though his country is at war, the Governor allows himself and his
family many indulgences, such as a pair of permanently on-call doctors to attend to Michael
and plans for a large expansion of the Governor’s Palace. One Easter Sunday, Arsen Kazbeki
—known as the Fat Prince—stages a coup, overthrowing the reviled Grand Duke and all his
Governors. When Georgi is taken prisoner, his servants prepare the palace for a siege while
his wife, Natella, is hurried away to safety. Natella has packed extravagantly for her flight
from the city, and while she orders her servants to bring her even more clothes and finery
from her bedchamber, the servant tasked with watching Michael sets the baby down on the
ground in order to fetch Natella her things. Meanwhile, a servant-girl named Grusha and a
soldier named Simon Shashavadeclare their love for one another amidst the chaos of the
coup. As a red sky rises over the city, Simon gives Grusha a silver cross on a chain as a
token of their engagement, and Natella flees, forced to leave her belongings behind. In the
madness, however, Michael is left behind too. Grusha picks him up, and even though her
fellow servants tell her to abandon the child—reminding her that the Fat Prince’s
Ironshirts will certainly be looking for him—Grusha carries him away from the palace
toward safety.

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Grusha bonds with Michael as the two of them make their way into the mountains. Grusha
has very little money, and begs at the cottages she comes across for milk and shelter. At the
home of a peasant woman and her husband, Grusha feels she can carry the child no farther,
and abandons him on their doorstep. Grusha leaves, but soon runs into two Ironshirts and
their Corporal, who ask her if she has heard of or seen a missing baby “from a good family,”
who is sure to be dressed in fine linens. Grusha, realizing that the men intend to harm
Michael, panics and returns to the home of the peasant woman, whom she begs to remove
the baby’s fine linen swaddling and claim that he is her own child. When the Ironshirts
arrive to ask Grusha why she ran away, the Corporal notices the child wrapped in fine
linen, and the peasant woman panics and confesses that the child is not hers. As the
Corporal makes to lift the child from his crib, Grusha knocks the Corporal over the head
with a log. She once again takes Michael and runs. When Grusha arrives at a glacier which
leads to the mountain villages, she finds that the bridge which allows passage over a deep
ravine is in poor shape. Although the merchants gathered at the bridge warn Grusha that
passage is dangerous, she hears the Ironshirts approaching, and runs across anyway. The
Ironshirts arrive, but know they cannot cross the rotten bridge. Grusha takes Michael
further into the mountains.

Grusha travels for seven days through the frigid mountains on the way to her brother’s
house. As she goes, she anticipates the warm welcome she will receive from her brother
and his wife, and the delicious food that she and Michael will be served. When she arrives,
though, she is desperate and weak, and her brother Lavrenti and his deeply religious
wife Aniko question what Grusha is doing alone with a child. Though Aniko is skeptical of
Grusha’s presence in the house, Lavrenti allows her and Michael to stay. After six months,
however, the snow has begun to melt, and Lavrenti tells Grusha that it is time for her and
Michael to leave. Lavrenti has arranged for Grusha to marry the son of a local peasant
woman. Grusha protests, as she is betrothed to Simon Shashava, but Lavrenti insists that
this man will be her husband only on paper—he is sick, and very near death, and once he
dies Grusha will inherit his land and his home. Grusha agrees to go along with her brother’s
plan. When she arrives at the home of her new husband-to-be, her new mother-in-
law hurries the ceremony along, having hired a local monk to ensure that the marriage is
made official as soon as possible, since her son is taking his last breaths. As more and more
neighbors show up to observe the strange scene, some begin to gossip about the political
unrest in Grusinia, saying that the Grand Duke has returned to power and all the soldiers
will soon be coming home from war. Grusha, distressed, realizes—just as she has wed
herself to another man—that this means Simon will soon be back. Just then, Grusha’s new
husband, Jussup, sits up from his deathbed, suddenly alive and alert.

As months go by, Grusha must deal with her new husband’s distaste for her and for
Michael, as well as his increasingly harsh demands. He taunts Grusha daily, and tells her
that her beloved Simon will never come for her. As time passes, Michael grows older, and
Simon fades from Grusha’s memory. One day, Grusha washes linens in a nearby stream
while Michael plays with some of his friends from the village. Simon arrives at the river,
and Grusha is overjoyed—though she breaks the sad news that she can never return to
Nuka, as she has assaulted an Ironshirt and married another man. Simon, noticing a child’s
hat in the grass, asks if Grusha has a child. She replies that she does, but insists it is not
hers. Simon tells Grusha to throw the cross he gave her into the stream, and leaves. Nearby,
the children shout that a pair of Ironshirts have seized Michael, suspecting that he is the
son and heir of the late Governor of Nuka. Grusha follows the soldiers back to the city,
knowing she will face trial.
The singer Arkadi backtracks to tell the story of Azdak, the judge who will preside over
Grusha’s case for custody of Michael. Years ago, after sheltering an old man he believed to
be a beggar, Azdak realized the old man was actually the recently-deposed Grand Duke.
Filled with shame for having sheltered such a corrupt and reviled political figure, Azdak
branded himself a traitor and turned himself in to the authorities in Nuka to be judged.
When he got there, he found that, in the coup, all the judges had been hanged. The
Ironshirts, thinking Azdak a just man, appointed him the new judge in Nuka. Since then,
Azdak has made a name for himself as a nontraditional judge who often hears two or more
cases at once, and delivers unlikely but nevertheless just verdicts. He becomes known
throughout the land as “the poor man’s magistrate.” When the Grand Duke returns,
however, and the Fat Prince is executed, Azdak fears that his unconventional methods and
years of surprising decisions will come back to bite him. Instead, when Natella returns to
Nuka to reclaim her husband’s estates, she approaches Azdak to take on the case, and he
willingly obliges.

In court in Nuka, Grusha reunites with her servant friends amidst continuing chaos and
revolt. One of the palace cooks tells Grusha that she is lucky Azdak is hearing her case,
explaining that Azdak is not a “real” judge, since he stands up for the poor. Simon appears,
and offers to swear in court that he is the father of Grusha’s child. Grusha nearly bumps
into the Corporal she assaulted back at the foot of the mountains, but he does not recognize
her. Natella arrives at court, flanked by lawyers and speaking openly of her hatred for the
common people. Azdak finally takes his seat as the presiding judge and, after hearing
Natella’s testimony and accepting a bribe from her lawyers, implores Grusha to explain
why the child should be given to her. Grusha replies simply that the child is hers, saying
that she brought him up, clothed him, fed him, and taught him how to be friendly and
hardworking. Natella’s lawyers then bring up the issue of Michael’s status as the Governor’s
heir, arguing that it’s in Michael’s best interest to inherit the Governor’s estates.

Grusha, Simon, and the cook attempt to argue Grusha’s case, but Azdak holds them all in
contempt and fines them. Grusha accuses Azdak of being a hypocrite and a sycophant, and
calls him a “drunken onion” and a “bribetaker.” Azdak adjourns the case for fifteen minutes.
He pulls Grusha aside to ask why she wouldn’t want her son to grow up in the lap of luxury.
Grusha does not answer, but Arkadi sings what she is thinking: if Michael grows up
wealthy, he will grow up to be cruel. Michael is brought into the courtroom, and Azdak
announces that he has devised a test which will allow him to determine the child’s true
mother. He draws a circle on the ground, places Michael in the middle of it, and instructs
Grusha and Natella to each grab one of Michael’s hands and pull. Whoever can yank the
child from the circle is his true mother. When Azdak instructs the women to pull, Natella
easily yanks Michael onto her side—Grusha does not pull at all. Grusha begs Azdak to allow
her to keep the child just a little while longer, and Azdak orders the women to complete the
test again. Again, Natella yanks Michael roughly from the circle, while Grusha cries that she
cannot harm the child she has brought up from infancy. Thus, Azdak declares Grusha to be
Michael’s true mother, and advises her to take him and leave the city. Moreover, he
declares that the Governor’s estates will fall to the city, and will be converted into a
playground for children. Natella faints, and is carried away by her lawyers. Azdak then
removes his judge’s robes and invites all present to join him outside for dancing and
drinking. As his final act, he divorces Grusha from Jussup, allowing her and Simon the
freedom to be together at last. As Michael, Simon, and Grusha dance, Azdak stands alone,
“lost in thought.” Arkadi sings his story’s lesson, which mirrors the lesson of the peasant
farmers in the prologue: “That what there is shall go to those who are good for it.”

Ghosts

Henrik Ibsen

Mrs. Alving is building an orphanage as a memorial to her husband. This edifice is to be

dedicated the next day, and her old friend Parson Manders has come to perform the
ceremonies. In a private conversation, Mrs. Alving tells the Parson that her husband had
been a complete degenerate, and she is using the rest of his money to build the orphanage
so that she can leave only her money to her son Oswald, who has just arrived home from
years and years abroad.

In a private talk with his mother, Oswald confesses that he has an incurable disease which
the doctors think was inherited. Oswald, however, believes his father to have been a perfect
man. Mrs. Alving, then, must confess that Mr. Alving had indeed been a degenerated man
and that Oswald caught the disease from his father. Oswald knows that he is dying and
wants to take the maid as his mistress so that the maid, Regina, will give him poison when
he is next struck by the disease. Mrs. Alving then explains that Regina is in reality his half
sister. This does not bother Oswald, but Regina refuses to stay. Oswald then tells his
mother that she must administer the medicine when the next attack comes. As the play
closes, Oswald begins to have his attack and his mother does not know whether to
administer the poison or to endure the agony.

Critical Essays Theme of Ghosts

As if to answer the hosts of critics who denounced the "vulgar untruths" they discovered
in A Doll's House, Ibsen developed another facet of the same idea when he
published Ghosts two years later.

According to Halvdan Koht, one of his biographers, "Mrs. Alving is in reality nothing but a
Nora who has tried life and her inherited teachings and who has now taken a stand."
Having sacrificed love for conformity, Mrs. Alving must face the tragic consequences of
denying her personal needs.

In essence, the problems Ibsen probes in A Doll's House are the same as those of Ghosts: the
relation between past and future, and the relationship between the race and community on
one hand, and the individual on the other. Society perpetuates itself by handing down from
one generation to another a set of beliefs and customs so that new individuals can take part
in the culture and contribute to its perpetuation. Ibsen, however, shows how these
principles may degenerate until they actually destroy the very individuals that the social
system is created to protect and nurture. He insists that these "ghosts" of old beliefs and
outdated piety must be reexamined in the light of each individual's experience; if not, the
most gifted of society's children will face destruction.

Having himself suffered all his life under the conservatism of Norwegian provincialism,
Ibsen personally found how such a society destroys the "joy of life" in its creative intellects
leaving bitterness and frustration.

Critical Essays Structure and Technique in Ghosts

As in most of Ibsen's problem plays, Ghosts begins at the collective climax in the lives of its
characters. The play deals only with the consequences of these past lives and does not need
to take place in more than one twenty-four hour vigil. Although the relationships among
the characters are close and lifelong, only the crowding of emotions and events within
these three acts forces each one to face the truth about himself and about his society.

Unlike A Doll's House, where there are servants and a sub-plot between Krogstad and Mrs.
Linde, only five characters appear in Ghosts. No one is included who has not a place in the
main action itself. In this way, an atmosphere of austere grandeur is given to the whole
drama providing it with an intensity suggestive of classical plays. Professor Koht describes
the play's further relationship to ancient drama for Greek tragedy, often called the fate, or
family drama, shows a tragic flaw inherited through the generations. Ghosts is also a
"family tragedy," he writes, "but it is also a social drama — the ancient tragedy resurrected
on modern soil."

Captain Alving's character bears this out. The source of the hereditary flaw which destroys
his children, his presence pervades each scene of Ghosts. As each living character
illuminates the nature of the diseased profligate, he finally stands as clearly and as well-
drawn to the audience as if he were constantly active on stage. Almost as a "secondary"
protagonist, Alving undergoes a change of character until he is presented to the spectator
as an individual whom society has wronged. Finally, when Mrs. Alving recognizes how she
destroyed his "joy of life," the dead husband is no longer a ghost, but a humanized victim of
the social conventions.

The Second Sex Summary

The Second Sex presents Simone de Beauvoir’s historical account of women’s
disadvantaged position in society. The text explains current theories that de Beauvoir
disputes, summarizes her account of women’s place in history, and provides alternatives
for how women should be treated. The work contains two volumes: one on “Facts and
Myths” that de Beauvoir attempts to deconstruct, and the second on “Lived Experience,” in
which she explains her own take on how women actually experience sexism day to day.
Within the first volume, de Beauvoir first focuses on biology, psychoanalysis, and historical
materialism as three different, flawed theories for explaining the female condition. She
explains that none of these theories fully explain every aspect of a woman’s situation.
Biology cannot account for the ways in which society conditions people to treat one
another. Psychoanalysis ignores the question of why people are driven by certain
motivations to begin with. And historical materialism is too fixated on economic theories to
recognize how sexuality and other factors play into men’s treatment of women, as well.
This first part allows de Beauvoir to establish what kinds of explanations she will be
working against when she provides her own theories in the following sections.

de Beauvoir then uses the second section of this volume to describe a history of women’s
treatment in society. She begins by tracing the ways in which primitive societies already
mistreated women and regarded them as inferior to men. She then explains how the advent
of private property pushed men to institutionalize their oppression of women, who became
regarded as property as well. de Beauvoir then acknowledges that religion also shaped
men’s treatment of women by giving them moral excuses to limit women. In her fifth
chapter, she considers more recent periods in which women’s situation in society was
slightly improved by the granting of greater rights. However, she concludes by pointing out
that traditional systems of oppression continue to this day in the spheres of reproduction,
sexuality, and labor.

In the last part of this first volume, de Beauvoir discusses the ways in which women are
depicted in myths and understood in literary texts. She begins by broadly summarizing
how women used to be thought of as idols who represented nature and motherhood.
However, she notes that even in this adulation women were feared and objectified by men.
In her second chapter, she analyzes the work of several authors and philosophers who
mythologized women in different, negative ways. She ends this part by considering how
these myths and literary representations affect women in their day-to-day lives.
In her second volume, in which she considers women’s lived experiences, de Beauvoir
summarizes a woman’s formative years, her different roles in society, the ways in which
different women react to their positions, and how the modern woman is beginning to
reclaim a certain kind of independence. Her section on a woman’s formative years
summarizes how a girl passes through childhood, into girlhood, and through sexual
initiation in ways that are more traumatic and limiting than a male’s experience of these
phases. de Beauvoir also, more problematically, considers homosexuality as a phenomenon
affecting women who reject the masculine sphere.

The second part of the second volume is the longest section of the book and summarizes
the many different roles a woman can play in society. It is in this section that de Beauvoir
presents her main ideas: women are limited in every role they can play in society, and are
thus forced to adopt certain traits and coping mechanisms that have made them even more
inferior in society. Because woman cannot be productive or creative, she gives herself up
completely to serving men and children. As a result, however, most women are left
miserable, unfulfilled, and temperamental. This leads de Beauvoir into the third part of this
volume, in which she discusses how different women react to this situation either by
becoming obsessed with themselves, giving themselves up completely to their lovers, or
devoting themselves to mysticism.

Finally, de Beauvoir concludes her text by arguing that genuine equality between the sexes
has not yet been achieved in her society, but would be beneficial for both genders. She
describes how the independent woman of her day still faces greater challenges than men
do because traditional values regarding marriage, reproduction, and femininity continue
into her day. However, she also ends on the more optimistic note that if women are given
equal opportunities, they can achieve just as much as men can.