fgftcrtcyuvtttrtrecrxeceuce
Reply
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Who Am I?
Featured
When Peter Parker walks in late to his English class, he interrupts a lesson on plot in fiction. His teacher is explaining that a mentor of hers used to say that there are ten basic plots in all of fiction, but that she disagrees…she thinks there is only one: the question of who am I?
Certainly the exploration of that question is key to many stories. It is key to the story of Spider Man as Peter Parker must figure out the origin of his identity and who he wants to be going forward. The question of identity is one we each must answer as we grow up, and it makes sense that if literature is the exploration of human experience that its stories strive to answer that question, too. Who are we, as individuals and as part of larger communities?
“Who am I?” is a question that is key to understanding the theme and plot of many stories we have discussed this year, among them
- Beowulf, A New Telling
- Freak the Mighty
- A Christmas Carol
- The Lion King
- Mulan
- Star Wars
- Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
- Phantom of the Opera
- Les Miserables
Can you think of more stories you have read or watched that explore the question of identity? Share your answer in the comments.
Darkness: a Beautiful Thing?
As I walk into the Phantom’s lair I feel I chill rush through me. I stop and look around the room. It is incredibly dark. The only lighting in all of the Phantom’s mysterious hideaway, is an immense chandelier hanging from the cracked ceiling. Only three candles are lit. The floor is rough, worn out cement. And the walls are a deep crimson red with black designs scattered throughout. I can tell the room is bigger than the eye can see because of the faint sight of candle light far in the distance.
I turn back to see the Phantom lingering further and further into the darkness. I slowly follow him deeper into his realm of despair.
I then hear a faint sound ahead of us. I can’t tell what it is yet. Wind? No it couldn’t be. Not all the way down here. My curiosity directs me to the noise faster. I try to go as fast as I can without daring to pass in front of the Phantom himself.
As we near the end of the lair my eyes wander around the room. But before I can look at anything too closely I hear the sound again, this time loudly erupting from the ground.
“Water,” I say out loud.
I cover my mouth quickly; but instead of seeing rage building inside the Phantom, I see him nod slowely. I walk as close to the ledge as I can, without falling in. The water seems haunting yet soothing in a way I don’t seem to understand.
Pitch black
Pitch black is all I can see. There is no clear marveling river—not at all— in fact I cant see the river at all. The only reason I can say it is water is because of the thundering sound echoing in the cavern. The darkness frightens me for moment, but for some strange reason it soothes me now. I didn’t know how something that seemed so frightening could be so beautiful.
Maybe the dark isn’t what we make it out to be. And maybe, the Phantom isn’t what we make him out to be.
Lair of Loneliness
The Lair is empty. Nobody can be found inside the blood stained walls. The room is so large that it just doesn’t feel right to have it be so utterly empty.
A man steps out from behind one of the many golden framed mirrors. He walks to the lone organ that sits in the middle of the vast cavern. The sound that comes out of the organ when he plays it is sad, like the organ itself is sick of being alone in the dark and just wants to jump up and out of the this terribly lonely place!
Even with this loneliness the show must go on. “Down once more to the dungeon of my dark despair!” sings the man. Even though he is made of pure evil and has done terrible things in his life, you can’t help feeling bad for him. He was cast down to these empty, barren, desolate halls because no one had ever shown him love or compassion.
The lonely melody goes on and from above sounds start to echo through the large halls.
“Track down this murderer, he must be found”.
The Phantom of the Opera sits at the organ and listens to a small music box. All alone, all full of regret, all full of sadness, he enjoys his last moments of peace and solitude. It is now clear that he likes this loneliness. As the mob comes in he simply disappears, off to another place of solitude and where he can have no regret. Off to be with the loneliness he loves.
Photo Credit: Hamed Masoumi via Compfight