The moral of the story is perhaps a bit dark, and the suggestion that there is no way to revolt and gain substantive change is perhaps one that has evolved in the nearly three-quarters of a century since the time that the novella was published.
These narratives depict a South struggling for identity in the middle years of the twentieth century, peopled with crooked Bible salesmen, earnest preachers, escaped convicts, one-armed grifters, and wayward souls seeking salvation, or at least satisfaction.
Tragedy opens up aesthetic possibilities, allowing suprahuman forces to partake as literary subjects that overwhelm individual characters. It is a mode of expression that goes beyond what realistic fiction can provide.
Landscape sculptor Andy Goldsworthy has said, “The field is a beautiful forum for the fight for nourishment.” Jane Wong brings that forum to the page.
Symbolic as my singular action was, it was optimism in practice, opting for the choice to join a collective demonstration of resistance. These days, I’m far more likely to feel that “we” have ruined things than that “we” can affect the world to come.
On quick glance then not much of “Hands” seems overtly experimental—the only oddity is that without George asking and without Wing disclosing, we somehow arrive at Wing’s backstory.
In his latest album Us or Else: Letter to the System, T.I. exposes America’s obsession with guns, questions the senseless killings of African American men by both blacks and whites, and the imminent need for social retribution.
The narrator in Rivka Galchen’s story “The Lost Order” is akin to Walter Mitty, the protagonist in James Thurber’s “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,” who sees himself as defined only in his dreams, not by the man he is in real life. They are both negative images.
Joan Didion’s 1979 book of essays The White Album is not only a road trip through the gridded streets and indecisive canyons of Los Angeles County, but also a meditation on Southern California as a setting for self-discovery.
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