I was in an old wooden church recently, way up in the north country, and by chance I got to talking to a girl who told me she was almost nine years old. The way she said it, you could hear the opening capital letters on the words Almost and Nine. She had many questions for me. Did I know the end of my stories before I wrote them? Did my stories come to me in dreams? Her stories came to her in dreams. Did the talking crow in one of my books go to crow school? Where did crows have their schools? Did the crow’s friends talk, too? Did they have jokes that only crows know? Did I write with a typewriter like her grandfather? Did I use a computer? If you write on a computer, do the words have electricity in them? Is it too easy to write on a computer? …show more content…
She was about to start writing her third book. Her first book was about bears, and her second book was about her grandfather’s fishing boat. Her grandfather still owned the boat even though he was too old to go fishing. He would go sit in the boat sometimes when it was at the dock, though. It took him a long time to get into and out of the boat, but he wouldn’t let anyone help him in and out of the boat because he was a Mule-Headed Man. He let a young man go fishing in the boat, though. The young man wanted to buy the boat, but her grandfather wouldn’t sell it no matter what. So the young man paid her grandfather in money and fish he caught when he used the boat. Her family ate an awful lot of fish sometimes. She thought her third book was going to be about a mink. She wasn’t sure yet. Could you write a book if you didn’t know what would happen in it? I said yes, you could. I said that, in fact, it seemed to me that the writing was a lot more fun if you were regularly surprised and startled and even stunned by what happened. I said that maybe one way to write a good book was to just show up ready to listen to the people and animals and trees in the book, and write down what they said and …show more content…
I said that I wasn’t saying one way was better than another way, and that probably you could write good books in all sorts of ways, certainly I was not particularly wise about how to write good books, because I only wrote one book at a time, and very slowly, too, and whatever I learned while writing one book seemed to be utterly lost the next time I wrote a book, because the books were as different as people or animals or trees are, and whatever you think you know about a person or an animal or a tree because it is a certain species or color or nativity is probably egregiously wrong, because assumptions are foolish, as far as I could tell. She said that one of her ambitions was to someday write a book with a really good pen, and I said that, by happy chance, I had a terrific pen on my person, in the shirt pocket where I always carry pens with which to start books if book-starting seems necessary, and that one thing authors should be with each other is generous with good
In the beginning we find the family and its surrogate son, Homer, enjoying the fruits of the summer. Homer wakes to find Mrs. Thyme sitting alone, “looking out across the flat blue stillness of the lake”(48). This gives us a sense of the calm, eternal feeling the lake presents and of Mrs. Thyme’s appreciation of it. Later, Fred and Homer wildly drive the motor boat around the lake, exerting their boyish enthusiasm. The lake is unaffected by the raucous fun and Homer is pleased to return to shore and his thoughts of Sandra. Our protagonist observes the object of his affection, as she interacts with the lake, lazily resting in the sun. The lake provides the constant, that which has always been and will always be. As in summers past, the preacher gives his annual sermon about the end of summer and a prayer that they shall all meet again. Afterward, Homer and Fred take a final turn around the lake only to see a girl who reminds Homer of Sandra. “And there was something in the way that she raised her arm which, when added to the distant impression of her fullness, beauty, youth, filled him with longing as their boat moved inexorably past…and she disappeared behind a crop of trees.
He teaches the kid what to do in order to successfully reel in a large, beautiful fish. Ironically, the narrator is the one who learns from the kid in the end. At the beginning of the story, everything is described negatively, from the description of the kid as a “lumpy little guy with baggy shorts” to his “stupid-looking ’50s-style wrap-around sunglasses” and “beat-up rod”(152). Through his encounter with the boy, the narrator is able to see life in a different way, most notable from how he describes the caught tarpon as heavy, silvery white, and how it also has beautiful red fins (154). Through the course of the story, the narrator’s pessimistic attitude changes to an optimistic one, and this change reveals how inspiring this exchange between two strangers is. This story as a whole reveals that learning also revolves around interactions between other people, not only between people and their natural surroundings and
I am reading “The Bass, the River, and Shelia Mant” by W.D. Wetherell, The story is about a young boy trying to choose between a beautiful girl and his passion of fishing. In this journal, I will be questioning and evaluating.
uncovers the truth about the fish, and how it and its environment was abused by the old
As the ship plowed the sea for eight days, the chugging rhythm of its engines reverberated in Ted’s head: Da-da-DA-da-da-DUM-DUM, da-DA-da-da-DUM (Morgan, 80). Even after the Kungsholm had been docked for days, this rhythm was still stuck in his head. Taking Helen’s suggestion, he set out to develop a story around the rhythm, using the shipboard notes that began with “a stupid horse and a wagon (Morgan, 81).
...e does not discuss what she is writing, while she is writing it. She is afraid that if she speaks of it, it will wear out her idea. She says, “If you want to be a writer, I have two pieces of advice. One is to be a reader. I think that's one of the most important parts of learning to write. The other piece of advice is: Just do it! Don't think about it, don't agonize, sit down and write”.
To elaborate, after the narrator asks Sheila on a date, he brings his fishing rod because he never went anywhere that summer "without a fishing rod" revealing that fishing is what he likes to do and is important to him. He adds when he wasn't trying to impress Sheila Mant, he "was fishing the river for bass" explaining that he spends a lot of time fishing and he enjoys it very much. Before Sheila Mant, fishing has been his true passion. Nonetheless, the narrator becomes torn between Sheila and fishing. During the date, as the narrator discusses fish, Sheila pronounces that she believes "fishing's dumb" which created a dilemma with the narrator because fishing is what he cherished as extremely as Sheila. His rash desire masks his true passion and provokes the narrator to hide his passion from Sheila. Furthermore, the narrator hooks the largest fish he has seen inside his fishing pole and realizes that "Sheila must not know" because he would have given anything not to "appear dumb in [her] eyes." His superficial values and hunger for Sheila cause him to hide his passion in exchange for the possibility of Sheila's love. His desire for Sheila forces him to try to seem sufficient enough Sheila's love even if it means endangering his passion. Instantly, the tug of Sheila was too great for him and he extracted a knife and "cut the line in half" forcing his passion
The book has vivid imagery making the reader imaging as if her or she was their right beside him in his whole investigation. Such as “In the winter of 1978, through, a fierce blizzard hit southern Connecticut. Temperatures were often below zero and at one point it snowed for thirty-three hours straight. Perhaps it was the cold that killed the fish, or the copper sulfate I helped the caretaker drag through the pond the previous summer to manage the algal blooms, or maybe even the fishermen id noticed trespassing on the estate one day, scoping out my grounds. But whatever caused it, after that never again did I spot a living fish in that pond again.”(Greenberg 12-13). This quote shows how good his imagery, tone, and diction is, when I read it all I could think of is that storm and the pond. The author has an excellent writing style and keeps the reader wanting more. Even though the book has a lot of good things for it the only thing I would tell the author would to give more connections of him to the story. It says “The transformation of salmon and sea bass from kingly and holiday wild fish into everyday farmed variants is a trend that continues with different animals around the globe.”(Greenberg 195). In every chapter about each of the fish it gives some connections to him but it would make it even
“The Bass, The River, and Sheila Mant,” written by W.D. Wetherell, tells the story of a fourteen-year-old boy and the summer in which he met Sheila Mant. After weeks of failed attempts and longing for the older woman who seemed just out of his reach, the boy worked
“Why? Why? The girl gasped, as they lunged down the old deer trail. Behind them they could hear shots, and glass breaking as the men came to the bogged car” (Hood 414). It is at this precise moment Hood’s writing shows the granddaughter’s depletion of her naïve nature, becoming aware of the brutality of the world around her and that it will influence her future. Continuing, Hood doesn’t stop with the men destroying the car; Hood elucidated the plight of the two women; describing how the man shot a fish and continued shooting the fish until it sank, outlining the malicious nature of the pair and their disregard for life and how the granddaughter was the fish had it not been for the grandmother’s past influencing how she lived her life. In that moment, the granddaughter becomes aware of the burden she will bear and how it has influenced her life.
When the boat was initially found by the girls the boys didn’t see it at first, after they find it they become closer friends and this newfound friendship takes the teenagers on an adventure. They not only find a boat and fix it but they also use this boat to guide them into a new territory with the opposite sex. This boat gives them the freedom to do that.
Diving into the book I found that Paul Greenberg takes his readers on a journey starting from when he was just a boy and enjoyed the simple act of casting a baited-line into the water and waiting for a fish to latch onto the hook. “By the summer of 1981, I had a boat...and several thousand square miles of sea for my own use.” (3) After being hooked by Greenberg’s opening story, I learned that the four fish from the title of the book are salmon, sea bass, cod, and tuna. These four fish are on almost every seafood restaurant's menu. The book only has about six traditional chapters but four of them are dedicated to a single fish from the list mentioned before. Regardless, the book is still over two hundred pages long because Greenberg goes so in-depth with the story of each fish.
Watching Eddy fish, Gus absorbs a lot of information that before was totally unseen to him. Not only about fishing, but about this woman and about himself, needing to learn from her. He says on page 152 “I felt for the first time that I was in the presence of a fishing genius exceeding my own.” He is enthralled by her fishin...
A fish is a creature that preceded the creation of man on this planet. Therefore, Bishop supplies the reader with a subject that is essentially constant and eternal, like life itself. In further examination of this idea the narrator is, in relation to the fish, very young, which helps introduce the theme of deceptive appearances in conjunction with age by building off the notion that youth is ignorant and quick to judge. Bishop's initial description of the fish is meant to further develop this theme by presenting the reader with a fish that is "battered," "venerable," and "homely." Bishop compares the fish to "ancient wallpaper.
...ollow. With her memory as my core to security and knowledge, I packed my campers into the canoes, and we set off, a camp song on my lips and hunger for the wilderness within my heart. Whenever challenges arose, Sara stood beside me; her rational eyes scrutinized the sky for advancing storms; her inexhaustible patience built a roaring fire out of wet wood; and her deft fingers secured fishermen's knots to hold up a tarp. Because her skills had built a firm foundation for trail life within me, my confidence now positioned the girls into lightening stances; my hilarity amused the girls as we huddled under the protective tarp; my voice sang reassuringly over the pounding of the fierce rain. At last, when a fantastic rainbow fanned the brilliant blue sky, it was the love of both of us that abounded the joy and fulfillment of leadership being passed on to a new generation.