Text Explorations

Leads from Formula to Explore:

·      “Troubling details” – what about these details makes them troubling? What do they have in common with each other? What about them makes it strange that I missed them?

·      “Flirts with the fairytale genre” – in what ways does Aimee Bender do this? What elements about The Healer make it not a fairytale?

·      “Too complicated and problematic” – what about Lisa makes her so problematic, more so than the fire girl and the ice girl?

·      “Details of her personal life” – what details do we get? What details don’t we get? Any guesses why?

Passage 1 – page 28

At this point in the text Lisa is taking a break from the action of the story to tell us about J. and her thoughts on him.

I chose this passage because it’s one of the times in the text where Lisa turns the focus on her instead of on the events of the story. By exploring this passage I hope to capture what about Lisa makes her so complicated and 3D that I had to simplify her while I was reading.

Passage:

“Today we focus on Lisa, J.’s voice would sail[1] out, Lisa[2] with the two flesh hands[3]. This is generally where I’d stop[4] – I wasn’t sure what to add[5].”

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1: Word Definition/Wording/Figurative Language/Connection: The OED defines “sail” in a few particularly interesting ways, the most interesting being simply “To dance.” This idea of J.’s voice dancing out has this sort of calm musicality to it. For Lisa, these strange daydreams seem to calm and relax her. They seem to engulf her and lull her to sleep like the red poppy field in The Wizard of Oz. She loses touch completely with reality, another example of this being when she says “I was busy for a second renaming myself Atlanta when I looked over and saw how nervous and scared she was” (Bender 32). She spaces out often, but this in a way humanizes her – it’s something we can relate to. Which is part of the problem. We’re not supposed to relate to the narrator – we’re instead supposed to feel a connection with the characters of the story. She’s not a reliable narrator – she recounts information only being “pretty sure” it’s what actually happened. Her train of thought jumps around like that of Victor in Sherman Alexie’s short story. She is too much of a blend between a protagonist and a 3^rd-party narrator. I had to categorize her as one or the other.

2: Wording/Syntax/Connection: The repetition of Lisa’s name in this sentence seems pointed. It’s like she wants to make sure we know that it’s about her. There’s something strangely self-centered about her in some parts of the story, like her desperate need for the fire girl and the ice girl to know her name (Bender 30). She craves being a part of the two girls’ stories instead of just a bystander. Ah, I’ve come across something! Instead of being a neutral spectator as a narrator is supposed to be, Lisa involves herself in the events that take place. She wants to be more than a narrator.

3: Wording: Lisa feels it necessary to describe herself in relation to others. Fire girl and ice girl have their elemental hands while she only has flesh hands. Interesting, because usually when people compare themselves to others, they look for special things they have that the other person doesn’t. With Lisa it’s the other way around. By holding her flesh hands next to the ice and fire hands, we can’t help but see her as not special, as boring, as normal. That seems to be how she sees herself too.

4: Wording: It says this is “generally” where she stops, implying that she has done this multiple times. It seems to be a common pastime for her. But wouldn’t it get boring after a while, when all she really does is compare herself to the fire girl and the ice girl? If the part about “flesh hands” is fairly regular, wouldn’t it get tiresome?

5: Wording: It says that Lisa “wasn’t sure what to add.” She can say nothing about herself, be it good or bad, unless it is relation to someone else. She actually identifies herself by a comparison to fire girl and ice girl. Lisa doesn’t tell us the story of the fire girl and the ice girl for our benefit because it’s a nice story with a good moral. She tells it for her own benefit because she believes it defines her as a person. She cannot live without them. It’s the highest level of dependency and there’s something almost pitiful about it. Is it possible that, being as wrapped up in herself as she is and yet so insecure, she tells this on purpose to gain our pity?

Passage 2 – page 28

At this point in the text Lisa is gearing up to tell us about the fire girl’s relationship with Roy.

I chose this passage because it exhibits Lisa’s strange narrating style that makes her an unreliable narrator and not the kind ideal for a fairytale. By exploring this passage I hope to deepen my understanding of Lisa’s unusual narration – I think right now I only have a superficial idea of it.

Passage:

“I found[1] them first[2], and it was accidental, and[3] I told no one, so it[4] wasn’t my fault[5].”

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1: Word Definition/Connection: The OED defines “find” as “To come upon by chance or in the course of events” and “To discover the whereabouts of (something hidden or not previously observed).” Both these definitions display the idea of Lisa discovering something new – in this case Roy and the fire girl. Lisa claims that finding them together was “accidental,” much like how she tells us she “wandered into the boys’ bathroom” (Bender 29). She rarely takes responsibility for her actions, insisting that many of these experiences were merely coincidental. It seems unlikely that she just happened to come across Roy and the fire girl together, considering she obsessively stalks the fire girl throughout the course of the book. So she deliberately tries to mislead us.

2: Wording: By saying that she came across fire girl and Roy first, Lisa is not-so-subtly implying that others will come across them later on. She’s foreshadowing… not even that… alluding to a later part of the story, something you rarely see happen in fairytales. If we notice it, it draws us in. Lisa is dangling the information in front of us. Also, when Lisa insists that she found them first, it’s almost like she’s staking a claim. She seems to think we’ll applaud her for it or give her some sort of reward. In this aspect there’s definitely a childish nature to her.

3: Syntax/Connection: The repetition of “and” here not only makes the sentence a run-on, but gives it this sort of uneducated feel. Lisa seems to have a very limited vocabulary – as we said in class discussions, she speaks in choppy sentences. Not something you’d expect from a narrator. It’s one of the many things that makes us wary to trust her story, in addition to her telling us that she only thinks some things happened (Bender 27) and her frequent hallucinations. Narrators, especially of fairytales and fables, are supposed to be trustworthy, because their whole purpose is to convey the message. But as I said before, Lisa doesn’t seem interested in passing along any moral to us at all. Therefore, she feels no obligation to tell the story in a straightforward manner.

4: Wording: Lisa tells us that she is not to blame for “it,” but we the readers have absolutely no idea what it is. She’s being very selective in the information she’s giving us. The main purpose of this sentence for her is to tell us that she’s not at fault, not about what she’s not at fault for. It’s hard to know whether she’s intentionally vague or not, but it sure makes it a bumpy ride for us.

5: Wording: This is pretty much a disclaimer. Lisa wants us to know straight away that she had nothing to do with whatever harm befell her precious fire girl. Telling us that it wasn’t her fault, in her mind, takes priority over recounting the actual information. A fairytale narrator never does this. In fact, when reading fairytales I seriously doubt that people ever suspect the narrator of being guilty of anything. So again, Lisa wants to bend her position as narrator a little. She still has the free will of a protagonist, yet she is tasked with telling the story. Interesting that Bender combines two fairytale “characters,” if you will, into one. But in addition, Lisa telling us that it wasn’t her fault seems to suggest that she assumes we’d have cause to suspect her. So she understands that she’s not a reliable narrator?

Text Exploration for Sherman Alexie's The Only Traffic Signal on the Reservation Doesn't Flash Red Anymore

Leads from the early claim that need exploration/development:

-Unique narrative style: What about this narrative makes it unique? How does Alexie tell the story and how is it different from the work of other authors?

-Humanizes his characters: If this is so, what is he doing to humanize them? Do they seem humanized? Can we as readers relate to and understand them?

-Flat Stereotypes: If these are not flat stereotypes, what are they? What makes them 3D and not flat? How are they different from other stereotypes?

Text Exploration

This passage is on the bottom of page 46, continuing through the top of page 47, and it’s when, after Julius and his friends have walked by, Victor is reminiscing about his past as a ballplayer, and the experience that led to the end of his career.

“While I looked at those close-ups of death and destruction, I lost it.[1] I think everybody[2] in that room, everybody on the team, lost[3] that[4] feeling of immortality.”

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1: It’s been a few paragraphs since we’ve heard from Victor about this need for immortality. Now, when it gets brought back into the story, it is in this sentence reintroduced as just “it,” not as immortality. When I first read this, I didn’t make the connection that it was immortality Victor was talking about. I thought he meant he lost his sanity, which would seem logical after looking at graphic pictures of gory injuries. This has the same effect as the very beginning of the story, when we are told there’s a gun but don’t find out till later that it’s a BB gun. We are only provided with limited information. But although this narrative style makes for a bumpy ride, it definitely helps humanize the characters. This is Victor’s train of thought, and like any real person’s, it is not neat and organized – it’s messy. He is not filtering his thoughts so they will make sense to us. For him, this immortality concept is so significant he doesn’t even have to refer to it as immortality, just as “it.” He knows in a heartbeat what “it” signifies even if we don’t.

2: There’s an emphasis on “everybody” here. Victor uses the word once, and then in the same sentence after the comma he uses it again. He somehow is able to know that every single person in that room lost that feeling of immortality at the same time and for the same reason as he did. How can he know that they all had the same experience? This seems like a stereotype in itself. Victor is prone to these sweeping generalizations – before he talked about the things that drive a ballplayer as if they’re true for every player (Alexie 46). We never actually hear from any other ballplayer during the course of this story that immortality matters to them. So why does Victor do this, and is it more than a flat stereotype? Well, in recounting the story of the lost game that led to him quitting his career, it’s likely easier to talk about it as if the team lost together because they lost the feeling of immortality, not that it was just him to blame. He’s stereotyping himself on purpose so as not to take individual responsibility. This is more than flat. This is something we do all the time, to make ourselves feel included, to avoid blame. So some stereotypes in this story humanize the characters rather than dehumanize them.

3: Saying they “lost” this feeling of immortality implies that at one time they had it, which seems true, because before Victor said it’s what “drives a ballplayer” (Alexie 46). For me, this “lost” idea brings to mind lost innocence, which essentially is what I think this is. There’s a hint of a coming-of-age story here. Everyone on the reservation roots for these heroes, these beings who will make them proud. Most of us have been someone’s hero, whether it be a younger sibling or a friend, and if you’ve ever done something that ruined you as a hero in their eyes, you know it hurts them as much as it hurts you. They say it’s hard to watch your idols fall. These Indians are living a very mortal life (if that makes sense?). They drink beer, sit around, get sweaty and drunk. But someone who could go farther, who could do better, has definite appeal. Being that reservation hero, that Indian who does not waste their time drinking, brings that feeling of immortality. They are the people who are expected to transcend the stereotype. But when these “heroes” are reminded of their mortality, of how easily they could die and be no one’s hero, they lose their immortality.

4: It may be insignificant but I was noticing the interesting pattern (or lack thereof) of articles in this sentence: first we get “that room,” then “the team,” then “that feeling.” The middle one with “the” is more vague, while “that” seems more specific, like gesturing to one specific thing. I think this could be for a reason. “That room” – that’s our setting (in Victor’s mind) right now – makes sense for it to be specific, and “that feeling” is the one and only feeling of immortality. But “the team”… I don’t know… I get the feeling this happens to many teams on the reservation, not just the one. Victor and Adrian discuss how many players have failed, and since Victor names the loss of immortality as the reason for change in a ballplayer’s performance, I’m assuming that elsewhere, with other teams on the reservation, they too lose their immortality. Maybe not by looking at pictures in a book, but by something. I think you can only pretend to be immortal for so long.

Fahrenheit 451 Text Explorations

Passage 1 – page 113

At this point in the text, Beatty, Montag, and the others have just answered the alarm to come burn books that has led them directly to Montag’s house. They are currently standing outside Montag’s house, and Beatty is about to start admonishing Montag.

I chose this passage because it talks about how book burning serves as a sort of superficial entertainment for the people. I hope that really exploring this passage will help me follow the lead of how book burning is all just an unsubstantial show and a power play. The firemen don’t want to let the people know that the ideas in books will exist even after the books have been destroyed.

Passage:                                                                          

“Lights flickered on[1] and house doors opened all down the street,[2] to watch the carnival[3] set up. Montag and Beatty stared, one[4] with dry satisfaction, the other with disbelief, at the house before them,[5] the main ring[6] in which torches[7] would be juggled[8] and fire eaten[9].”

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1: Word Definition/Wording/Connection: The Oxford English Dictionary defines “flicker” as “Unsteadfast, wavering.” This is interesting to me because it implies the lights don’t just turn on, they flicker on, something that seems strange considering all the technology. Another OED definition of flicker is “Of a bird: To flutter, to hover.” There’s something more natural and less technological about flickering. In fact, there’s a sense of it that’s a bit like fire. Not fire’s violent, destructive side, but the warm, revealing side as demonstrated at the beginning in “But the strangely comfortable and rare and gently flattering light of the candle” (Bradbury 7) or near the end in “Above the hands, motionless faces that were only moved and tossed and flickered with firelight” (Bradbury 146). The use of a word that implies beauty before the murder that Montag is about to commit seems strange, and also odd considering it’s describing the actions of the technology-obsessed citizens, when it’s usually used for people in Montag’s life like Clarisse and the Book People. Maybe this is because the crime Montag is about to commit will ultimately bring him closer to the Book People, to literature?

2: Wording/Connection: There’s sort of this mechanical, almost creepily in sync feeling to “all down the street.” Bradbury could’ve said “the doors opened” and ended it there. But “all down the street” demonstrates how even though it’s late at night, even though the people should be sleeping, they all get up and out to watch the show. This idea of them all do actions at the same time also occurs earlier on in the book in “People ran out of houses all down the street” (Bradbury 40) which is what happens when the lady burns her own house down. Interestingly, both of these in sync, “all down the street” moments revolve around book burnings.

 

3: Word Definition/Figurative Language/Connection: The Oxford English Dictionary defines “carnival” as both “A fun-fair; circus” and “Any season or course of feasting, riotous revelry, or indulgence.” Carnival serves as a metaphor here. There is a fun, entertaining element to book burnings that connects with the entire entertainment theme in the book, but there’s also this idea of “feasting.” It connects to the last two words of the passage: “fire eaten.” These people eat fire. Which is interesting, because the salamander (significance – part of the first section title and one of the logos of the firemen) is defined by the OED as “A lizard-like animal supposed to live in, or to be able to endure, fire” but ALSO as “A fire-eating juggler.” Interesting. And this idea of “eating” what is provided to you, no more, no less, ties in to “Going away from the people who ate shadows for breakfast and steam for lunch and vapors for supper” (Bradbury 140).

 

4: Wording/Style: We know our subjects in this sentence are Montag and Beatty, but Bradbury intentionally, I think, says “one” and “the other,” instead of telling us which is which. We can make a pretty good guess that Beatty is satisfied and Montag in disbelief. But maybe these don’t only represent Beatty and Montag, but the two different ways you can view book burnings. This “dry satisfaction” is something the firemen experience, and something that Montag used to experience, when they burn books. The disbelief is the audience reaction, when you are at the carnival, and you can’t figure out how that person is doing that thing. Disbelief does not require understanding, which is a big part of the objective of the firemen. Daze the people with something, distract them with smoke and mirrors, and hide the truth.

 

 

5: Syntax/Style/Figurative Language/Connection: Bradbury uses the comma after “them” to join the literal meaning to the figurative. Montag’s house is like the main ring in the book, but Bradbury wants to make sure we get both sides of the metaphor. He also does this earlier in this passage, with the comma after “all down the street.” Lights are flickering and doors opening, but a carnival is not really being set up. It is in the minds of the people, especially in the minds of the firemen.

 

6: Figurative Language: Montag’s house is not literally the “main ring” in a circus, but in a figurative sense it certainly is. He’s the main character, so his house and his life are the main ring on which we get to speculate. But as a general rule, the person whose house is about to get burned becomes the main ring, the center of attention. Burning is an enormous, crowd-pleasing spectacle.

 

 

7: Word Definition/Figurative Language: This is figurative because the firemen don’t actually use torches to burn. It continues with the theme of symbols connected with carnivals. The OED defines “torch” as “A light to be carried in the hand, consisting of a stick of resinous wood… or other inflammable substance.” Notice it’s defined as a light, not as a weapon or even a flame. The thing about torches is they have a handle, so the bearer is able to keep the fire from harming themselves, and if it is used as a weapon, to control who it harms. The torchbearer demonstrates a tremendous amount of power, which means this could be a symbol for the power the firemen exert over the community. Another point is that torches can be used both for light and for damage. It depends on the person using it. All the fire-related tools of the firemen are undoubtedly violent, like the flamethrowers. Interesting, then, to use the word “torch” instead of “flamethrower,” implying that you have a choice in how you use your power.

 

8: Word Definition/Figurative Language/Connection: The OED defines “juggle” as “To amuse or entertain people with jesting, buffoonery, tricks, etc.” This is definitely figurative language because the firemen don’t in reality “juggle” fire, and once again develops on the theme of presentation and entertainment. This idea of “jesting” and “buffoonery” makes me think of Montag’s “He knew that when he returned to the firehouse, he might wink at himself, a minstrel man” (Bradbury 4). There’s this idea of acting as a jester and of dumbing down to entertain. This is something not only Montag but maybe even the other firemen, at least Beatty, have to do. Everything they do is about pleasing the audience. Also, the word “tricks” in the OED definition of juggle makes me think of mischief and of mind games. Which are what the firemen play on the people and in turn on themselves.

9: Wording: Fire eaters don’t actually eat fire, they extinguish it with their breath which all involves precise timing. The audience thinks they’re in danger, but in reality, if they’re well-trained, they’re not. Just like how the books aren’t really the “danger” to the stupidity that people are brainwashed with – the Book People and more importantly the ideas behind literature are the real danger.

 

 

 

Passage 2 – page 39

At this point in the text, Montag and the firemen are at the house of the book lady who has just taken out a match to burn her own house and herself rather than let the firemen do it. The lady has not burned the house yet, but is about to, and the firemen are in the process of reacting.

I chose this passage because in contrast with my previous exploration where the book burning “show” is being set up and all is well, here something has gone wrong to disrupt the show. I think examining Beatty’s reaction closely could help to unearth some more interesting info about the motives and lives of the firemen.

Passage:

“Captain Beatty[1], keeping his dignity[2], backed slowly[3] through the front door, his pink[4] face burnt and shiny[5] from a thousand fires[6] and night excitements[7].”

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1: Syntax: This whole sentence is split up choppily with commas, starting with the one after Beatty’s name. I think this could perhaps be a way that Bradbury is expressing the mood – very hesitant, very slow, in contrast to everything else in the world that moves fast. The commas hold our attention, like Beatty is trying to.

 

2: Word Definition/Wording/Connection: “Dignity” is defined by the OED as “The quality of being worthy or honorable,” “Persons of high estate or rank,” and also having “gravity.” These are all really interesting. This idea of being worthy sort of connects to the idea of performance. Beatty is the main actor, not this lady. He is worthy of the main role. He doesn’t want to let her steal his spotlight. Which sort of connects to his general attitude towards everyone – when he lectures Montag at his house, he is very uppity and rarely lets him get a word in edgewise. The next definition, of being of “high rank,” definitely connects to Beatty. He is the fire chief and holds enormous power. That’s why Bradbury makes sure to refer to him as Captain Beatty at the beginning of this sentence. The last definition, “having gravity,” is really fascinating. I interpret this as having presence, maybe even going as far as stage presence. Beatty is a very focused person, always having his wits about him, and not even letting something like this make him totally lose his cool. He has a lot of gravity and inertia as well. He gains attention and will do anything to keep it. These are qualities that Montag doesn’t have.

 

3: Wording: I find it interesting that Beatty’s backs away “slowly.” Considering this spontaneous power shift, you’d expect him to have a more spontaneous reaction. But he remains composed, or at least seems to. (It’s possible he’s just behaving like a “minstrel man.”) It seems like a reaction in a movie or a play, not a reaction you’d have in real life.

 

4: Word Definition/Connection: The OED defines “pink” of course as a color, but there are two additional definitions that I found interesting: “Of an eye: small, winking, or half-shut” and “A very small person or creature; a brat; an elf.” This is definitely over analyzing, but the idea of Beatty’s face being a winking face is too good to pass up. He’s winking at the audience as if to say, “this is just an act, folks!” Reminds me again of Montag’s “He knew that when he returned to the firehouse, he might wink at himself, a minstrel man, burnt-corked, in the mirror” (Bradbury 4). The difference is that it takes a mirror for Montag to wink at himself whereas Beatty does it constantly – he is continually described as “pink.” The “small brat” definition is kind of funny, which could be the point. Beatty is supposed to be tough, yet is described as pink, a word we associate more with silliness and girlishness. Interesting.

 

5: Word Definition: “Shiny” is defined by the OED as “Having a bright or glistening surface” and “Beaming, radiant. Also, apparently excellent.” These are interesting because having a “bright or glistening surface” doesn’t mean that what’s under the surface is bright and glistening. The word “shiny” in general has a superficial feel. This idea of “beaming” is something I associate largely with pride. Is Beatty proud of the woman in some way? Or proud of himself? Next, being “apparently excellent” doesn’t mean you actually are excellent. Shiny overall has the smoke and mirrors vibe that most everything Beatty does has. Beatty is in fact scared by this woman’s actions, but pretends not to be because “the show must go on.”

6: Wording/Connection: Beatty’s face is shiny at least partially from these “thousand fires.” It’s not just the prospect of this fire that is showing in his face. It’s all of them. He generalizes, packaging all of these fires which had unique books and unique people involved into one big thing. It makes them, individually seem significant, like how, when Beatty is lecturing Montag, he says “Every fireman, sooner or later, hits this” (Bradbury 53). It belittles individual events or individual people. It’s a form of desensitization and is one of Beatty’s very effective tools of power play. And there’s a bragging quality to it to. He’s caused a thousand fires! His shiny, burnt face is his battle scar, like how a musician gets calluses on their fingers from playing frequently. He wears his like a trophy.

7: Wording: These fires for Beatty are “night excitements.” They’re fun! They’re exciting! Just like how Montag used to enjoy it, there’s something about putting on this show for people that Beatty really gets off on. There’s a show every night, and it’s live theatre, so for the firemen disruptions like this woman have they’re exciting side too. He can add her to his list of “close calls.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Passage 3 – page 82

At this point in the text, Montag has come to Faber’s house for the first time, hoping that he can give him some answers. Faber is beginning to explain to Montag the true nature of books, and what is missing from them that is affecting them at the present time.

I chose this passage because I hope to find more information in it about how there is an element in books that cannot be destroyed, even though the firemen put so much emphasis on book destruction.

Passage:

“No, no[1], it’s not books at all[2] you’re looking for! Take it where you can find it[3], in old[4] phonograph records, old motion pictures, and in old friends[5]; look[6] for it in nature[7] and look for it in yourself[8].”

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1: Syntax/Wording: There’s this carefully arranged repetition with commas of “No, no,” that I think is worth looking at. Faber repeats this, maybe to a certain degree for emphasis. It also has a very dismissive attitude for the beginning of the sentence. He’s pretty much saying to Montag “you’ve been looking in all the wrong places.” Interesting that he’s so dismissive.

 

2: Wording/Connection: Faber doesn’t say it’s not books Montag’s looking for, he says it’s not books at all that he’s looking to. Very dismissive. Is he implying that the focus on books is mainly superficial, because that information will always live on with someone? Does he know this? Perhaps he’s trying to say that the answers aren’t in books, they’re in the ideas. Even when there are books, people can read them without getting anything out of them, or even misinterpreting them, as Beatty points out to Montag when he says “What traitors books can be! You think they’re backing you up, and they turn on you” (Bradbury 107).

 

3: Wording/Style/Connection: Faber, by saying this, is implying that Montag can find “it.” The ironic thing is that Montag doesn’t have phonograph records or old motion pictures (if they even still exist) and his only friend was Clarisse, but she died and he only knew her for a short time anyway, although he did remark to her “Why is it, I feel I’ve known you so many years?” (Bradbury 28) So why is Faber telling Montag to look for this concept in things he has no access to? Is he claiming they are entirely unattainable? Or perhaps just that they don’t exist in material things anymore…

4: Word Definition/Wording/Connection: One of the interesting OED definitions of “old” is “To grow old; to deteriorate through age.” This idea of deterioration could definitely be applicable to books. There’s quite the emphasis on “old,” since it’s said three whole times in a row. It’s possible Faber is not only talking about books but also about himself? He does constantly refer to himself as an old man, for example when he says “I am a cowardly old fool” (Bradbury 90) He does seem to be reminiscing, as all the “old” things he lists, at least the first two, likely don’t exist. He has been in his house for a very long time with little outside influence. Maybe he’s stuck in a bit of a time warp.

 

5: Word Definition: “Friend” is defined by the OED as “A person with whom one has developed a close and informal relationship of mutual trust and intimacy.” The only real friend that we know of in Montag’s life was Clarisse and she’s gone now, but this definition was definitely something their friendship was a prime example of. No one else has this kind of friendship though – Clarisse couldn’t find it in people her own age, and Mildred’s friendships are all based on watching TV.

 

6: Wording: The verb switches from “take” to “look.” Interesting that the places Faber tells Montag to look are more attainable than the things Faber tells Montag to take. Maybe this verb switch is distinguishing between past options and present options (even though Faber might not know that). Also, the two options listed with “look” are the ones that Montag ends up choosing.

 

7: Wording/Connection: This is an interesting option because “nature” as in that kind with plants and animals doesn’t seem to exist until you get to where Montag fled to at the end. Nature was the place Clarisse looked to find “it,” probably by going to the same place where Montag ends up, as he guesses in “Once, long ago, Clarisse had walked here, where he was walking now” (Bradbury 145). Could Faber possibly mean human nature as well? But there isn’t much human nature in this world.

 

8: Wording/Connection: Fascinating that “yourself” is the last one Faber gives him. It’s the only one immediately doable. The others aren’t even options, or he’d have to travel a long ways to reach them. But “yourself” is something that takes no travelling. Or does it? Montag’s been doing a lot of self-reflection, but maybe not the kind Faber is intending. Montag finds a poetic, well-written phrase in himself when he says “That’s the good thing about dying; when you’ve nothing to lose, you run any risk you want” (Bradbury 85). He doesn’t need to look that far into himself to find it. Maybe that’s Faber’s point. Literature is spontaneous, not planned, not scripted. It’s what’s missing from this world.