"He coughed so hard that he grabbed his chest. He leaned over the plate and sprayed the mash potatoes red."
I love this line in Zach's essay because it takes something very frightening and tells it in a distant/shocked kind of way that's all visual, but still graphic enough to show us what's going on. I think that the use of the word "mash" instead of "mashed" illustrates an attention to the child's voice. I also think the use of the word "spray" is an interesting choice here. The word itself seems so innocuous--like it shouldn't be associeted with someone's mortality.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Robert Greene's essay, "Days in May"
"For a few hours, though, I forget about all that. 'Welcome to Earth,' says Will Smith as he punches an alien in the face."
There are so many reasons why I love this particular sentence in Robert's essay. For one thing, it provides the reader with comic relief after the weight of the previous two paragraphs in which the narrator's parents express thier concern over their son's apparent anti-social behavior. We, the readers get a break, but (just as importantly,) does the narrator. Finally, his parents support some good Sci-Fi (sorta).
There are so many reasons why I love this particular sentence in Robert's essay. For one thing, it provides the reader with comic relief after the weight of the previous two paragraphs in which the narrator's parents express thier concern over their son's apparent anti-social behavior. We, the readers get a break, but (just as importantly,) does the narrator. Finally, his parents support some good Sci-Fi (sorta).
C. J. Krakeel's essay "Type One"
This is a really powerful essay, and the writer accomplishes this through attention to sensory detail and careful characterization. Here's an example:
"He put his arm around me and his foot on the gas."
Not only does this line convey action to move the essay forward, but it also helps to build on the charcterization of the narrator's father. It's not too mushy, not too doting, but it's supportive and loving. This action tells the reader that the narrator's father will guide him along, show him love, and give him some wiggle room every now and again. Great technique.
"He put his arm around me and his foot on the gas."
Not only does this line convey action to move the essay forward, but it also helps to build on the charcterization of the narrator's father. It's not too mushy, not too doting, but it's supportive and loving. This action tells the reader that the narrator's father will guide him along, show him love, and give him some wiggle room every now and again. Great technique.
Anthony Setari's essay, "Every Morning"
It's funny how highly kids can think of themselves. Here's an example:
"I can always tell I'm kind of psychic like that, I always know when a show is about to end."
It seems like every kid wishes he has some kind of special power, and so they find one that works. It's like predicting who's on the other line when the phone starts to ring, when really, your best friend Hayley almost always calls you at this time every day. But still, it's a power. I particularly like the power described in this essay. It's hilarious because it's not that difficult to figure out when a twenty-two minute cartoon is reaching its conclusion--there are so many signals. What's great here is that the kid is recognizing these symbols and thinking it's almost mind-reading.
"I can always tell I'm kind of psychic like that, I always know when a show is about to end."
It seems like every kid wishes he has some kind of special power, and so they find one that works. It's like predicting who's on the other line when the phone starts to ring, when really, your best friend Hayley almost always calls you at this time every day. But still, it's a power. I particularly like the power described in this essay. It's hilarious because it's not that difficult to figure out when a twenty-two minute cartoon is reaching its conclusion--there are so many signals. What's great here is that the kid is recognizing these symbols and thinking it's almost mind-reading.
Ayesha Qureshi's childhood essay
I loved how the prose in this essay seems to bounce around but still sort of stay on subject as well. It also has a realistic child-version of the facts:
"Mom and dad say we will go [to Disney World] one day but we can't afford it right now. This is why it's so important I get started on my business."
What I love here is how these two sentences play together. Kids don't use complex sentences, they just state one fact in one sentence and then modify it in the next (when they need to). And I think this is a perfectly rational idea of how kids see the world. They want to go to Disney World, so they need to make money. If they need to make money, then they need a skill. And everything needs to happen fast! It's great.
"Mom and dad say we will go [to Disney World] one day but we can't afford it right now. This is why it's so important I get started on my business."
What I love here is how these two sentences play together. Kids don't use complex sentences, they just state one fact in one sentence and then modify it in the next (when they need to). And I think this is a perfectly rational idea of how kids see the world. They want to go to Disney World, so they need to make money. If they need to make money, then they need a skill. And everything needs to happen fast! It's great.
Nikki Youngblood's essay, "Snickers"
I think there's some really great description in this essay. Here's one line I especially appreciated:
"Fifteen pieces of gum, twenty lollipops, thirty jawbreakers, I count and wiggle my toes."
I think what is so wonderful about this line is the seriousness of counting candy contrasted with the giddy child-like movement of toe wiggling. We all had our ways of sorting Halloween candy--the precision involved, the careful recounting. But then there's this toe wiggling. Not only does the child take her task seriously, but she enjoys every minute of it--she's proud of her treasure and she's proud of herself for counting and sorting instead of tearing right it. Classic kid behavior!
"Fifteen pieces of gum, twenty lollipops, thirty jawbreakers, I count and wiggle my toes."
I think what is so wonderful about this line is the seriousness of counting candy contrasted with the giddy child-like movement of toe wiggling. We all had our ways of sorting Halloween candy--the precision involved, the careful recounting. But then there's this toe wiggling. Not only does the child take her task seriously, but she enjoys every minute of it--she's proud of her treasure and she's proud of herself for counting and sorting instead of tearing right it. Classic kid behavior!
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Essays
First, here's Courtney Akins's essay, "Survivors." This is one of my favorite lines:
"A branch lay at my feet, it must not have been able to fight the wind, and I picked it up and began hacking at the beast with horns before me. Red droplets fell and plopped upon the ground."
I like this passage because it shows, in just a couple short sentences, the sense of adventure and vividness of imagination that permeates this essay. The child's sense of urgency and fear turns this shrub into a foe, these berries into lifeblood. It's cool.
Now, for Turquoise Coney's essay, "Don't Surprise Me":
"Ms. Betty was always nice to me and the other children in the neighborhood but I couldn't get over the fact that she looked like a witch who would turn me into a rat as soon as I stepped in the door."
I love this sentence because of the fact that it shows just how irrational childhood fear is. Even though this woman, Ms. Betty, was always perfectly sweet to the neighborhood kids, they still think she's going to turn evil as soon as they step foot into her cluttered apartment. It's something I remember from my own childhood--there was this woman down the street who was really friendly, but when that woman opened up her mouth to laugh, she let our a cackle so fierce that it chilled me to the core. Terrifying.
"Bluff" by Emily Haymans
"That's how really cold cans of drinks smell to me; like thin, shiny fish scales."
There is so much emotion hiding just beneath the surface of this essay--but the serious-child voice just brushes over all of it. This sentence is an example of how the child-like and simple way of looking at things offers some sort of larger commentary. The detail here is olfactory--which is difficult to achieve, but makes for poignant writing. Awesome. I think Emily really nailed the child voice--she took it seriously, but gave it that curious, rambling manner that so overwhelmingly characterizes the story-telling of children.
Beth Godwin's essay, "The Dirty Bird"
Before I state my favorite line in this essay, it's necessary to give a bit of background. This is a line of dialogue from the narrator's sister, with one word of the narrator's internal response to follow:
" 'I'll have one, too.' Copycat. "
This essay plays with the idea of having a child narrator who internally reacts to the scene around her. This line illustrates the simple beautiy in using such a technique. It can be quick, smart, chuckle-worthy. I think that it's also a very difficult technique to use--if one's not careful the internal monologue can be overwhelming. It can seem unrealistic or forced, but I think this line shows a wonderful example of exactly when to use it.
And finally, we have my favorite line (or, more appropriately, one of my favorite lines) from
Shaun DeLoach's untitled childhood essay:
"I sunk my hands in mud until it snuggled up into my nails and past the crevices between my fingers until my hands were blanketed."
This is how Shaun opens up his essay--with the feeling of cool, soft, fabulous mud surrounding our fingers. Because when one reads Shaun's writing, it's not just the narrator who experiences the events of the essay, but rather the reader as well. We can't help but feel it because the narrator gives us enough sensory details to bring us into the world. This is just so necessary when it comes to understanding the child's view of the world around him.
"A branch lay at my feet, it must not have been able to fight the wind, and I picked it up and began hacking at the beast with horns before me. Red droplets fell and plopped upon the ground."
I like this passage because it shows, in just a couple short sentences, the sense of adventure and vividness of imagination that permeates this essay. The child's sense of urgency and fear turns this shrub into a foe, these berries into lifeblood. It's cool.
Now, for Turquoise Coney's essay, "Don't Surprise Me":
"Ms. Betty was always nice to me and the other children in the neighborhood but I couldn't get over the fact that she looked like a witch who would turn me into a rat as soon as I stepped in the door."
I love this sentence because of the fact that it shows just how irrational childhood fear is. Even though this woman, Ms. Betty, was always perfectly sweet to the neighborhood kids, they still think she's going to turn evil as soon as they step foot into her cluttered apartment. It's something I remember from my own childhood--there was this woman down the street who was really friendly, but when that woman opened up her mouth to laugh, she let our a cackle so fierce that it chilled me to the core. Terrifying.
"Bluff" by Emily Haymans
"That's how really cold cans of drinks smell to me; like thin, shiny fish scales."
There is so much emotion hiding just beneath the surface of this essay--but the serious-child voice just brushes over all of it. This sentence is an example of how the child-like and simple way of looking at things offers some sort of larger commentary. The detail here is olfactory--which is difficult to achieve, but makes for poignant writing. Awesome. I think Emily really nailed the child voice--she took it seriously, but gave it that curious, rambling manner that so overwhelmingly characterizes the story-telling of children.
Beth Godwin's essay, "The Dirty Bird"
Before I state my favorite line in this essay, it's necessary to give a bit of background. This is a line of dialogue from the narrator's sister, with one word of the narrator's internal response to follow:
" 'I'll have one, too.' Copycat. "
This essay plays with the idea of having a child narrator who internally reacts to the scene around her. This line illustrates the simple beautiy in using such a technique. It can be quick, smart, chuckle-worthy. I think that it's also a very difficult technique to use--if one's not careful the internal monologue can be overwhelming. It can seem unrealistic or forced, but I think this line shows a wonderful example of exactly when to use it.
And finally, we have my favorite line (or, more appropriately, one of my favorite lines) from
Shaun DeLoach's untitled childhood essay:
"I sunk my hands in mud until it snuggled up into my nails and past the crevices between my fingers until my hands were blanketed."
This is how Shaun opens up his essay--with the feeling of cool, soft, fabulous mud surrounding our fingers. Because when one reads Shaun's writing, it's not just the narrator who experiences the events of the essay, but rather the reader as well. We can't help but feel it because the narrator gives us enough sensory details to bring us into the world. This is just so necessary when it comes to understanding the child's view of the world around him.
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