Jane sat contently on the rusty swing at the very end of the garden. The air was pleasant and warm, but a fresh breeze kept it from being uncomfortably hot. The sunflowers and tulips slanted perkily in the direction of the sun. Jane tilted her head and smelt the mix of flowers and freshly cut grass in the air. The sky was a cloudless, vibrant blue and the water in the little lake by her Wendy house shimmered blue-green. In the distance, Jane could hear the sound of other children laughing and playing, they were probably going to the park at the end of the street. She kicked off her black Converse and odd socks felt the moist grass between her toes. This was Jane’s favourite place in the entire world. She was always happy here. Sometimes, at night, she would sit and stare at the sky, gazing in awe at the twinkling stars shining on the navy-blue backdrop. She noticed a ragged baby doll and a one-eyed teddy bear hiding amongst a small patch of uncut grass beneath the huge oak tree that provided the canopy above her head. She remembered how she brought them with her when she first moved here, and Jane thought back on how she ended up with this privileged life. Five years ago, Jane was living in a tiny flat in the centre of the city. It wasn’t the nicest area and the school wasn’t the best, but it was home. Her mum decorated their dwellings with ornaments and paintings purchased at jumble sales. She did her best to make it a home. Jane had a uniform a size too small and her hair was often greasy as the water was limited in their low-rent apartment. Her mum worked part-time at a dog shelter to pay the rent and buy food for herself and Jane. Jane thought she seemed happy enough, despite the fact that her husband, Jane’s fathe... ... middle of paper ... ...to do. When Jane stopped crying, Aggie lifted her up with surprisingly strong, pudgy hands and helped her get to bed. “Aggie,” whispered Jane thoughtfully, “do you think that this will ever stop? I mean, do you think it won’t affect me as much anymore, now that maybe it’s all out of my system?” Aggie sat at the edge of Jane’s bed on the maroon duvet and thought for a moment, forehead wrinkled. “Well, you’ll never forget, and I doubt you’d want to,” she began, pondering a way to put her next sentence without sounding insensitive, “but I think it’s not over. You’ll be fine for now, pet, but I think at the moment you just need some sleep.” “Okay, Aggie. And – thank you. For today, I mean.” “Goodnight, love.” With that, Aggie left the room and Jane, still in her day clothes, laid her head on her pillow and fell into a deep slumber. She would be fine, she always was.
It was a village on a hill, all joyous and fun where there was a meadow full of blossomed flowers. The folks there walked with humble smiles and greeted everyone they passed. The smell of baked bread and ginger took over the market. At the playing grounds the children ran around, flipped and did tricks. Mama would sing and Alice would hum. Papa went to work but was always home just in time to grab John for dinner. But Alice’s friend by the port soon fell ill, almost like weeds of a garden that takes over, all around her went unwell. Grave yards soon became over populated and overwhelmed with corpse.
Jane’s reaction to the rape influences Alice to console her, which makes her a more secure individual.
In the quote, “I am sitting by the window now, up in this atrocious nursery, and there is nothing to hinder my writing as much as I please, save lack of strength” (page 649). Jane saves herself by expressing how she feels about specific aspects of her life in writing. Being with herself, and only herself, in a tiny bedroom, Jane writes to save her strength. As it was common in the ninetieth century for women to be property to men, this made it easy for the husband’s to completely isolate their lives by controlling their lives. Stetson writes, “So now she is gone, and the servants are gone, and the things are gone, and there is nothing left but that great bed-stead nailed down, with the canvas mattress we found it on it” (page 655).
Even with the pain of bearing children, raising them, doing household and even farm chores, their efforts have never been truly appreciated. Mrs. Wright was “…real sweet and pretty, but kind of timid—and fluttery…” as Mrs. Hale, her neighbor, describes her (22). This would all soon change after her wedding day. With Mr. Wright’s insipid character and lack of patience of any joyous sound, Mrs. Wright’s spirit dwindled to nothing. It seems she spent hours at a time focusing on her quilts, preserves, and caring for the only life there was in the house, her canary. Even when Mr. Hale offered to get a party telephone, Mr. Wright responded, “…folks talk too much anyway…”(5). This silence he preferred also applied to his spouse. There were no hugs given out much less a smile. He failed to give her even the most minimal sing of appreciation much less the emotional warmth she hungered for.
The arrival of winter was well on its way. Colorful leaves had turned to brown and fallen from the branches of the trees. The sky opened to a new brightness with the disappearance of the leaves. As John drove down the country road he was much more aware of all his surroundings. He grew up in this small town and knew he would live there forever. He knew every landmark in this area. This place is where he grew up and experienced many adventures. The new journey of his life was exciting, but then he also had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach of something not right.
She is sure that she “never use to be this way” (479). This is the effects of her suffering from postpartum depression, finally falling under a psychosis by story’s end. Jane’s condition would have likely been an embarrassment her prominent husband and explains why he is personally treating instead of having referring her to another physician. We can surmise from the text she works as a writer, but has been “absolutely forbidden to work” until she is well again (478).
Jane was homeless and grieving. She begged continuously, but no one had the courage to help her. Despite living a beggar's lifestyle, Jane stayed true to herself by being well-mannered. She politely asked for an occupation or room to live in, but the citizens of the town denied the request. Jane was close of giving, until the last household allowed her into their house. Jane then discovered that the people who saved her life were her cousins.
Jane does not experience a typical family life throughout the novel. Her various living arrangements led her through different households, yet none were a representation of the norm of family life in the nineteenth century. Through research of families in the nineteenth century, it is clear that Jane’s life does not follow with the stereotypical family made up of a patriarchal father and nurturing mother, both whose primary focus was in raising their children. Jane’s life was void of this true family experience so common during the nineteenth century. Yet, Jane is surrounded by men, who in giving an accurate portrayal of fathers and masculinity in the nineteenth century, fulfill on one hand the father role that had never been present in her life, and on the other hand the husband portrait that Jane seeks out throughout the novel.
At the beginning of this piece, we are quickly introduced to the different lifestyles between the farm she lived in and the one she encountered when she left for New York. Easily distinguished is the contrast made by the use of the word “folks” when she mentions her relatives from “down under” but calls the New Yorkers “people.” The North is seen as a literary archetype as an unknown lucrative place, a strange place where “the flowers cost a dollar each.” This is positioned as a welcome mat to a world of differences between these two environments, which leads us to the core of her childhood life.
“I’m pretty sure she will. You should have had something a while ago. I guess they were hoping it would just clear up itself.” Her mom said softly. She ...
My mom came over to my and wrapped her arms around me in a warm, comforting hug. “It'll be okay.”
thinks of her as burden, and low life. Jane is forced to live with her
One would expect this young child to be sad and heart-broken, yet she always comes across as strong willed, happy and quite grown up for her age. Before her brother and sister died, she recalls playing and running. Now she hems kerchiefs, knits stockings and eats her supper down by h...
The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning to the four-story walk up I inhabited for the majority of my young life. Instead of the pavement surrounding my former building, the final turn of our seemingly endless journey revealed the sprawling grass expanse of a baseball field directly across from an unfamiliar driveway sloping in front of the red brick walls that eventually came to be know as home.
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.