Flannery O'Connor Post #2

                 “Revelation”

I understand Sam Hamill much better now. If you don’t focus on the details of theses stories, you begin to feel like you are reading the same story repeatedly. I chose to respond to “Revelation” because it is one of the only stories without a pathetic male main character.

The story opens with Mrs. Turpin taking her husband to the doctor. The waiting room is very small and has limited seating. Mrs. Turpin appraises the people in the room and determines that there are three that are white trash, one old man, a pleasant looking woman, a fat and ugly college-age girl, and themselves. As soon as she sits down, she begins a conversation with the pleasant looking woman since she is the only one worthy of her conversation.

Throughout the time spent in the waiting room, we learn that Mrs. Turpin feels very blessed that she is who she is in spite of her very clear prejudices against so many people. Everybody in the waiting room seems to be looking down their noses at everyone else. Even the clearly poor people Mrs. Turpin labeled as white trash, are racist. With all that hatred in one little room, it is no surprise that there was an incident. Of course, the incident did come from an unlikely source. The college girl, who perhaps was the only decent person in the room, threw her book at Mrs. Turpin and struck her in the face. She then commenced to leap at her and try to choke her. Once she was subdued, she called Mrs. Turpin some unpleasant things that caused Mrs. Turpin some distress.

At the end of the story, Mrs. Turpin has a vision of a bridge leading to heaven. On the bridge, she sees all the people she looks down on celebrating as they went. Behind all those people, she saw the people more like herself, who were crossing in a more dignified and solemn manner. When she looked closer she noticed the alarm on their faces as what they considered their virtues were torn away. In the end, they were no better than the people who had preceded them. Their solemn ascent was due to the fact that they had no cause for celebration. In the end, it was those who they had trampled under their feet that had cause to celebrate.

Everything That Rises Must Converge, by Flannery O’Connor, is a story of a young man, Julian, who must escort his mother to a weight-loss class. Julian’s mother is a single mother who was able to put her son through college, and because of her sacrifices feels he should accompany her to her class. Julian’s mother is clearly racist and doesn’t want to ride the bus due to the recent integration. Julian is very proud of that he is not racist and wants to teach his mother a lesson.


When they got on the bus, a little African American boy sits next to Julian’s mother. She thinks the boy is cute, so as they get off the bus she offers the little boy a penny. The little boy’s mother takes offense to this and hit’s Julian’s mother. Eventually, this causes Julian’s mother to have a stroke.                                                                                                                      

The scene on the bus is very telling. Julian sits next to an African American man to show his mother, himself, and the man that he is not racist. Throughout the story Julian is constantly thinking about how enlightened he is and how simple his mother is. He even thinks to himself in reference to her influence that “…instead of being blinded by love for her as she was for him, he had cut himself emotionally free of her and could see her with complete objectivity” (O’Connor, 12). Yet, Julian has issues with class. He is well-educated, unlike his mother, and only has respect for people of means. Julian feels superior to his mother.

This is a story of discrimination. This is a story of children rising above the mistakes of their parents, unaware that they have only displaced that discrimination.

                                                  Works Cited

O’Connor, Flannery. Everything That Rises Must Converge. New York: Farrar, Staus and
     Giroux, 1965. Print.

                                     The Necessity to Act


I have found that I have grown particularly weary of the mentality that is presented by Sam Hamill. Since I have returned to the U.S., I have discovered a country that is terrified to do anything. We have given up civil liberties only because we are becoming a nation of cowards. Possibly worst of all, is that we have suddenly all become victims incapable of overcoming whatever wrong was done to us, and entitled to something “more.”

I am not in total contention with this article, but many of the ideas presented in it seem a little naïve. Hamill talks about the responsibility that writers have due to their ability to stimulate emotion in the reader. He does not talk about the responsibility the reader has to exercise judgement and control. Just because someone is articulate and eloquent does not necessarily make them worthy to be listened to. For instance, Hamill says in his article that an abused child only as two options; continue being a “victim,” or “seize power and become the executioner.” Are those really the only options? Is it not incumbent upon me, as a victim of child abuse, to discover a third option where I no longer let myself be abused, and also break the cycle of violence for my children?

When it comes to reading some of the more depressing accounts of someone’s life or experiences, I wonder who is really getting more out of it. It seems that many times it should be more cathartic for the author than for the reader. The author is able to put their experience down on paper, and perhaps let some of it go. It is possible that they will, in some way, influence someone else into an action that they feel is correct. However, how much can we reasonably expect to influence someone who is capable of independent thought? Would playing the “peaceful solution” card work by sending Hitler, Stalin, Saddam, or any other infamous leader, a passionate poem by one of their victims compel them to change? Hamill says that poetry is “embarrassing,” and that we cannot “bear very much reality.” This may be true to an extent. What he is referring to is the reality of abuse, rape, murder and who knows what other terrible things. While these things are, unfortunately, very real they are not the only reality. I’m not sure exactly what his point is here, it almost seems that he feels we are neglecting some sort of duty to humanity if we don’t sit around and read depressing poems by depressed people. Well, I’m not going to do that, and that does not mean that I am indifferent.

I am tired of being asked to bear the burden of other people’s poor choices. I am tired of everybody saying that people can’t be expected to overcome their environment. This attitude of only two options for victims is what is causing more victims. Human history is full of people overcoming almost overwhelming odds. I think people who need to write, or even feel like, writing poetry to communicate something or free themselves, should continue to write. However, I don’t believe that poetry is going to save the world.

It is not only a “profoundly articulated No!,” that will cause the human spirit to prevail. It is people refusing to allow themselves to remain victims. It is people who refuse to create other victims. “No!,” is just a word.

The first time I read “Immigrants in Our Own Land,” I wasn’t certain what it was about. I thought it had something to do with immigration. After the first three stanzas I thought it was quite whiny. When I got to the last few stanzas I actually became somewhat angry. Reviewing the first three stanzas it almost sounds as if people have chosen to go to prison to better their lives. It had nothing to do with the fact that they broke the law and were found guilty by a court of law. All I can say is that this whole poem screams of someone feeling victimized. First, the speaker makes these people sound very innocent, as if they have chosen to do something to better themselves. Then he makes it sound like that choice has led them to be abused by the system. Oh, wait! This is prison and they didn’t choose to go here they were sent by those horrible cops that were doing their jobs.

I agree that the penal system is less than ideal. Many people who go in come out better criminals than when they went in. The system is not perfect and chances are against people being rehabilitated. However, this whiny, victimized poem can teach a lesson. Don’t break the law and stay out of prison!

The other poem I chose to review was “Daffodils” by Alicia Ostriker. I had to read this poem a couple of times to make sure I understood what the speaker was getting at. It seems to me that the speaker is in pain because the Iraq war started and has gone in search of something to take her mind off it. While I agree that war is not a good thing and not always the answer, it is sometimes necessary.

Personally, this poem came across as very arrogant and judgmental and as a veteran of that war, I find it very offensive. In a way, the speaker is saying that her pain caused by the start of the war is greater than the combined pain of the Iraqi people under Saddam Hussein’s regime. All I can say to this is that I, along with many other people, suffered more pain the day the war started and every day after for many years, than the speaker in this poem. Hitler was only worse than Hussein when considering scale. If it was wrong to remove Hussein then maybe it was wrong to remove Hitler from power as well. In the end, good people are the ones who do not sit idly by and allow evil to prevail, not the people who mask their ignorance behind eloquent closed-mindedness. Regardless of the conspiracies people believe lie behind the Iraq war, some good was accomplished. Things certainly could have been done better during the war, but if the good does not outweigh the bad, then the lives of my fallen comrades become even more tragic.

Introduction Video

What Makes a Good Reader?

In his article “Good Readers and Good Writers,” Nabokov describes a good reader as one who starts with the details and then considers the overall story. He believes that to start with a “preconceived notion” is “unfair.” A good reader is actually a “rereader,” and that by the very act of moving our eyes in order to read something is lost. He also states that a person should read with a little aloofness and remain partially dispassionate in order to gain an amount of objectivity.

I disagree with Nabokov about what makes a good reader, to an extent. I feel that it depends on what the reader is trying to accomplish by reading. I often approach reading simply as a means of enjoyment and escape. I approach books something like opening a Christmas gift. Cracking the cover for the first time and immersing myself in the story is how I enjoy reading. I usually start with the story and if it is intriguing enough, I will read it again to glean the finer details. I suppose that a different approach might be prudent if I am reading great literature.

When it comes to reading literature, Nabokov’s qualities of a good reader are most likely correct. I agree with his four requirements for a good reader. I am probably not a good reader because I sometimes feel bogged down in details. Granted, details are very important because they provide the pieces of a world that is capable of drawing a person in. However, sometimes if I focus on the details the story becomes lost. I also identify with some of his opinions of a bad reader. I like to read a book that engages me emotionally and that I can in some way identify with. Reading with a “scientific” mindset would, for me, detract from the joys of reading, but I am willing to try it.