Turning Pages

Kindred was a riveting read filled with interesting topics to explore. Among them, I find the manner in which this novel examines power dynamics not only within the context of slave and slave owners but also within interpersonal relationships very intriguing. Butler creates a very intimate setting for her characters to interact. The Weylin Plantation is small, with no overseer (for the majority of the novel), and filled with slaves who often interact with their white counterparts on a personal level beyond their basic slave/master relationship. Because of this setting, readers are offered deep insight into how unequal power dynamics distort relationships among people during this time period. As readers, we see examples of these twisted versions of intimate relationships constantly throughout the novel: For example, Dana and Rufus: The relationship between Dana and Rufus began somewhat on equal footing when Rufus was young and Dana still served as somewhat of an authority figure. But as

Well, we’re done with Mumbo Jumbo , it was ….interesting. I wasn't even entirely sure where to start with this blog post , there are so many things to dissect when it comes to Mumbo Jumbo but in the end I decided to take a closer look at the symbolism behind Jes Grew. At its heart Jes Grew seems to represent a rebellion against the oppressive forces of mainstream white culture. In this novel these oppressive forces are depicted as the Atonists and the Wallflower Order, groups that seek to suppress all forms of cultural expression deemed dangerous ( a decision made by themselves of course). Jes Grew is in direct opposition to these groups as it disrupts social norms through its infectious energy and liberating influence. The term Jes Grew itself is a play on words, it is reflective of the nature of an anti-plague. The name suggests that the phenomenon is natural, spontaneous, and uncontrollable, like a plant that grows. Similar to the proliferation of ideas and cultural practices w

320 pages later, here we are—finished! Ragtime was an interesting read, to say the least. What struck me the most was how Doctorow melds history with fiction to create an elaborate narrative that comments on society in the early 20th century. Let's start with the family. We have Mother, Father, The Little Boy, Mother's Younger Brother (MYB), and Grandfather. At the beginning of the novel, we are introduced to this family, with Father acting as the patriarch and Mother, as well as The Little Boy, falling into their typical roles. This family is meant to represent a wealthy white family in the early 20th century. Even their names, or lack thereof, point to the idea that they are meant to be representative of the basic family unit. As the story progresses, this typical upper-class family falls apart before our eyes. Doctorow dismantles this family in a way that exposes the dysfunction hidden within each character. To maintain conciseness, I'll focus on Father. At the start of

When I was 8 years old, my mother sat me down on the old carpet in the office and patiently taught me algebra. Despite my whining and complaints, she walked me through the intricate ins and outs of exponents and square roots, explained PEMDAS, and showed me how to isolate X. Little did I know that later that year, I would skip a grade due to my advanced math skills. At the time, I never thought to say, "Thanks, Mom." At the age of 12, I gained admission to Uni. My mom not only wrote the application for me but also endured my tantrums as I complained about studying for the SSAT. She played a crucial role in securing recommendations when one of my original recommenders fell through just days before the deadline. When we received the acceptance letter, saying “Thanks mom.” Never occurred to me. At 13, I found myself struggling as a freshman in high school, barely passing each assignment. Yet, my mom never gave up on me. She helped me with every missing assignment, raising my fai

  Storm Drains “Nyla, run out and do this next one,” my mother said as she extended the newspaper towards me. I sat in the car torn between the outstretched arm and the water swiftly flowing into the inauspicious drain beneath the orange mailbox. A knot tightened in my stomach, as the unsettling image of an unseen force pulling me into the drain flashed through my mind. “ Just do it youll be fine” I reassured myself as I summoned the courage to accept the task.  Tentatively grabbing the newspaper from my mothers hand I exited the car with hesitation. The rainwater's gurgling descent into the drain seemed to echoe ominously in my ears as I cautiously advanced towards the mailbox. Suddenly, the blare of a horn shattered my focus, jolting me back to the task at hand “ Come on, Nyla.” my mother called out impatiently. With a quick glance from the car to the drain I tossed the newspaper into the mailbox and spirited back tot the safety of the car. My heart was pounding with a mix of saf

    In The Boiler Room Ben Affleck's character said, “ Anybody tells you money is the root of all evil, doesn’t f*cking have any. They say money can't buy you happiness, look at the f*cking smile on my face, ear to ear baby.” When I initially heard this quote I agreed with Affleck’s character. Problematically I later realized that money can't buy me time. Time is invaluable, money can buy you clothes, jewelry, food, but it can't buy time. Hypothetically if money could buy me time. Money could buy me happiness.       For instance if money could buy me time, I could stay in bed longer in the morning. Every morning I have to complete the painstaking chore of leaving my bed. My alarm goes off, I ignore it. My second alarm goes off, I ignore it. Finally on the last alarm I break free from my blanket’s warm embrace and depart my bed. But the struggle isn't over yet after I get out of the shower and get dressed guess where I go. Downstairs to eat breakfast? No! Back to my