Desiree's Baby Literary Analysis

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Who are you, really? Some people grow up not knowing who or what they have come from, making assumptions as we go along in our lives. Making up our own names and saying who we ought to be. History gets lost in our blood line but similarities show through our skin. Comparing to one another suggesting that's who we are. “Every man is a quotation from all his ancestors”-Ralph Waldo Emerson The author of the story Desiree’s Baby makes the character control the illness by giving little details about the character. “ But Armand’s dark handsome face had not often been disfigured by frowns since the day he fell in love with her” (pg.4), This quote speaks of his color giving a little information having you think on his family history,but not to understand …show more content…

“ Desiree awoke one day to the conviction that there was something in the air menacing her peace”. Armand fell out of love with Desiree because the baby carried similarities with the slaves. “ Moreover he no longer loved her, because of the unconscious injury she had brought upon his home and his name”. Accusing Desiree of being black made her go into deep depression, making her desire of living less desireable.”I shall die. I must die. I cannot be so unhappy, and live.” As a black baby in that day of age it would have been hard for the world to accept him. He had criticizing world to look forward to in upcoming years. Desiree leaves with thoughts of sadness, confusing and even frustration, not knowing who she is, where she came from or why she how she is. “It means, he answered lightly, “that the child is not white; it means that you are not white.” “It is a lie: it is not true, I am white!Look at my hair, it is brown: and my my eyes are gray” “look at my hand: whiter than yours, Armand,” she laughed hysterically. Armand never seeing Desiree or the baby ever again she lives maybe forcing danger to her and the baby. “She did not take the broad, beaten road which led to the far-off plantation of Valmonde. She walked across a deserted field, where the stubble bruised her tender feet, so delicately shod, and tore her thin gown to shreds. She

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