Similarities between Uncle Nelson and Sylvie

Earlier we discussed how Uncle Nelson in Sag Harbor has a similar personality to Sylvie in Houskeeping. Both live differently from most others--including the other adults in their respective families--and have relatively laid-back personalities. I think it is fair to say that both Uncle Nelson and Sylvie behave like children (or at least much younger than their actual ages) at times, with Sylvie needing her nieces to remind her to wear boots in the snow and Uncle Nelson sitting at the kids' dinner table and driving around with his nephews, buying them beer.

I would also argue that Uncle Nelson and Sylvie are very much alike in the perspective on life they introduce to the adolescent main characters of Sag Harbor and Housekeeping. Before Sylvie came into their lives, Ruth and Lucille always had to obey their grandmother and great-aunts' rules about how to act, and couldn't voice their feelings very much. Similarly, Benji has to follow his father's strict orders in Sag Harbor or else face tough physical and emotional consequences.

When Sylvie becomes Ruth and Lucille's guardian, her free-spirited attitude and lack of experience with raising children allows her nieces to do and say what they want and therefore express or discern their own ideas. Uncle Nelson's interactions with Benji are similar in that Uncle Nelson seems to put Benji at ease. Benji enjoys when Uncle Nelson is around and I think finds it comforting that Uncle Nelson is an adult but hasn't lost all the fun that comes with being a kid (in contrast to Benji's dad, who is much more uptight).

Uncle Nelson and Sylvie represent ways of life that clearly oppose the ways in which Benji and Ruth were raised before, drawing the adolescents to the less rigid lifestyles. I think it is important that in each of these novels, going against the lifestyle they have long been raised with is seen as a positive thing for the adolescent main characters. For Ruth, that means associating with Sylvie's more transient point-of-view as opposed to the traditional routine of her her grandmother, and for Benji, that means taking advantage of his fun times with Uncle Nelson because he doesn't like his father's strict, harsh mentality.

Generation Separation

In class yesterday, we began talking about the relationship between Benji's generation and his parents' generation in Sag Harbor. After thinking about what Colson Whitehead mentions about Benji's parents' lives and how Benji and his friends feel about issues of race, I have a few ideas about some potential connections between the parents' experiences during the Civil Rights Movement and the kids' relatively privileged way of living:

One of the differences between Benji's generation and his parents' that I noticed early on is their respective relationships to the Civil Rights Movement. Benji and his brother Reggie were both born after the peak of the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s, so they never experienced the more extreme forms of segregation that his parents have endured. Another sign of the disconnect Benji has from the Civil Rights Movement is articulated as early as the first chapter of the novel, when Benji discusses not knowing much about many famous black people. On page 13 of my book (the hardcover version), Whitehead writes,

"One of my uncles would be over and mention Marcus Garvey and I'd ask, 'Who's that?,' as the eyes of all the adults in the room slitted for a sad round of tsk-tsking. 'Who's Toussaint L'Ouverture?' I'd stupidly inquire, and my father would shoot back, 'You don't know who Toussaint L'Ouverture is? What do they teach you at that fancy school I bust my ass to send you to?' Not 'Iconic Figures of Black Nationalism,' that's for sure."

There is an awkward difference between Benji's obliviousness to pivotal figures in Black history and his parents' noticing and possibly even being a part of the Civil Rights Movement and its immediate effects. This passage from the first chapter of Sag Harbor illustrates that it can be uncomfortable for Benji to ask about aspects of the Civil Rights Movement simply because it is so engrained in his parents' lives that they can't believe he isn't more attuned to or knowledgeable of it.

On a related note, I think readers of Sag Harbor could see Benji and his friends' toughness, awareness, or--what some people in class have suggested--oversensitivity when it comes to the role of race in their lives as a reflection of their parents' earlier struggles with how they were treated for being black. The kids have been privileged as far as their socioeconomic status their entire lives, while their parents had to endure growing up in a different, racially-segregated time. This is not to say that Benji and his friends are overreacting when it comes incidents that might involve race, but perhaps they feel like they have to justify their privilege in some way or have something to prove to their parents, whose struggles with race relations have been more extreme. Maybe some of the kids' reactions when they think they are being discriminated against racially (like when Martine pats Benji on the head at work and they read it as a demeaning, racist gesture that they should respond to or possibly get back at Martine for) is their way of trying to apply the same resilience about race that their parents needed during the Civil Rights Movement.

The connection can be interpreted in a few different directions, but I see it as either: 1.) Benji and his friends think they have to justify their relatively privileged lives because of parents' struggles, or 2.) they are accustomed to being sensitive to race relations because of their prior experiences and what they have learned from their parents, and just naturally react strongly to implications of how being black influences their lives. It will be interesting to see how this theme is illustrated throughout the remainder of the novel. Getting more details about Benji's parents and other adults and their ideas about race may help understand Benji's attitude as a result.

The Madame's Message

We had time in class the other day to think about the most important thing Madame Eva van Outryve de Crommelynck tells Jason in the chapter "Solarium" of Black Swan Green. What I immediately thought of was the Madame's emphasis of truthfulness above anything else.

There are a few ways in which the Madame discusses the importance of focusing on the truth, not the least of which is related to Jason's identity. She tells Jason to focus less on hiding his true identity as a poet in fear of what others' impressions might be. What I gathered from this is that she not only thinks Jason is being deceiving (to others and himself) about his personality and identity by writing poetry under another name, but that the Madame also wants to tell Jason that you can never entirely predict how people will react to your actions, so you might as well be upfront about them. I think this advice is something Jason should really internalize because in the end, others' ideas about his poetry will not change the fact that Jason is a good writer. It is also evident throughout the novel that hiding the fact that he writes poetry doesn't make Jason's life perfect in the slightest, so I think the Madame's idea that masking your true identity is deceitful and pointless is something Jason needs to hear.

Another instance when the Madame emphasizes the importance of being true is when she asks Jason about the writers he is familiar with. Though she may come off as slightly harsh when criticizing the type of literature Jason reads, her message about being familiar with authors who write about what is real makes sense. On page 161, after Jason mentions that he likes reading fantasy, sci-fi, and Stephen King books, the Madame replies:

"'Fantasy'? Pffft! Listen to Ronald Reagan's homilies! 'Horror'? What of Vietnam, Afghanistan, South Africa? Idi Amin, Mao Tse-Tung, Pol Pot? Is not enough horror? I mean, who are your masters? Chekhov?"

She makes a pretty clear argument for why she doesn't see much importance in writing about what is untrue, like fantasy. The Madame doesn't think there is a need to make things up when there are already so many unbelievable, exciting, horrific, true things taking place in our world already. I agree with her idea that writing about what is true can often be more compelling than a completely invented story, and can have more of an impact on readers who can relate.

Lastly, the Madame's focus on what is true continues into her discussion of defining beauty. She tells Jason that you can't define a concept like beauty, so don't worry about trying to. Instead, just know that beauty is true and that it exists, and that's what's important. Similar to her point that Jason should accept his identity as a poet and stop hiding himself, the Madame's idea that simply knowing that something is true--without trying to define or change it--can be enough. Like the way beauty exists but cannot be clearly defined, Jason should know that he is a writer and not try to limit himself by being defined as something he isn't.

Structure of "Bridle Path"

A couple of days ago in class we had time to write about and discuss the structure of the chapter "Bridle Path" in Black Swan Green. We talked about how Jason Taylor's journey to find the end of the path is very episodic; Jason faces many obstacles along the way, like being chased by Dobermans, witnessing the fight between Burch and Wilcox, and ending up on the lawn of the "Little Malvern Loonybin."

I think Jason's way of narrating these scenes is very reflective of his character. A number of people in classed raised the point that the chapter is similar in structure to Tolkien's The Hobbit, which makes sense when considering Jason's age and interests. Throughout Black Swan Green, we have seen Jason's perspective and quirks as a thirteen-year-old boy, including how he finds excitement in everyday things. Jason's "incursion" into his father's office is an obvious example of Jason's vivid imagination and adrenaline. On the second page of the novel, he writes:

"Dad's swivelly chair's a lot like the Millennium Falcon's laser tower. I blasted away at the skyful of Russian MiGs streaming over the Malverns. Soon tens of thousands of people between here and Cardiff owed me their lives. The glebe was littered with mangled fusilages and blackened wings. I'd shoot the Soviet airmen with tranquilizer darts as they pressed their ejector seats. Our marines'll mop them up. I'd refuse all medals. 'Thanks, but no thanks,' I'd tell Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan when Mum invited them in, 'I was just doing my job.'"

He goes on to describe his jump downstairs to answer the door as a "death-defying bound," emphasizing his mentality as a child: like many other kids, Jason at times exaggerates when he is storytelling, and little, unique things like jumping downstairs excite him. In addition to his imaginative language, Jason mentions the map of Middle-earth he has in his bedroom at the beginning of the chapter "Bridle Path." His interest in Tolkien's work and active imagination seem to influence how he narrates his own life, so to me it isn't very surprising that "Bridle Path" has elements of episodic, fantasy-style writing.

Another part of the structure of "Bridle Path" that stood out to me when I was reading it is that the various events that take place really flow together, without distinct transitions. Jason doesn't clearly explain exactly how much time has passed or how he gets from one place to another. For example, on page 77, after the scene of the fight, Jason moves on to being at the Christmas-tree plantation. After Dean says, "C'mon, Jason, better be off now," there is no description of what happens immediately after that. The next line of the novel just describes being at the Christmas-tree plantation.

These weak transitions made the chapter slightly confusing to me as a reader. I found myself wondering how much time passed between such scenes and what could have possibly transpired between them. These unclear parts of the chapter might reflect Jason's own perspective as a narrator too. Not only is he in an imaginative frame of mind, but he might also be confused about how the things took place. (The scene with the Dobermans and the time at the "Loonybin" are both very surreal, and made me wonder whether they actually took place.) In this way, the structure of "Bridle Path" is definitely a reflection of Jason's mindset and own potential confusion about the strange events of the day.

Sylvie as the Catalyst

There is a considerable shift in the lives of Ruth and Lucille once Sylvie arrives in Housekeeping. Sylvie is an interesting character for a number of reasons: she goes against the ordinary day-to-day life carried out by her mother, provides Ruth and Lucille with the ability to act freely as individuals, and tells Lucille and Ruth about their mother. Sylvie inspires a lot of change around the house, not the least of which is Lucille's decision to leave and ultimately never see her sister or aunt again.

It is immediately clear that Sylvie is unlike Lily and Nona when she enters the novel. In addition to her unusual way of dressing--wearing a gigantic, old coat over a much nicer dress, and not wearing gloves or boots in the extreme cold--Sylvie's attitude sets her apart from pretty much everyone else in Fingerbone. Not only does she disregard routines like taking care of the house or even eating regular meals, but she also seems to think very little about what is the best for the family. One example of this is when Ruth and Lucille skip school and see Sylvie walking out onto the bridge. It doesn't cross Sylvie's mind that she could fall from the bridge, and she doesn't think about the impact it would have on her nieces' lives if she did.

Sylvie's carefree, lenient attitude is what allows Ruth and Lucille to first be distinguished as individuals. Early in the book, Ruth and Lucille don't have much control over their situation and are forced to obey the rules set out by their grandmother and Lily and Nona. But when Sylvie becomes their guardian, they are put in a position where they can skip school if they want too, and Lucille especially isn't afraid to question Sylvie's authority. This change in their guardianship, along with their growing independence as adolescents, means that Ruth and Lucille have the liberty to express their differing beliefs more than they could before. While Ruth is often aligned with Sylvie's point of view and doesn't necessarily see Sylvie's quirkiness as a problem, Lucille's outgoing nature and desire to fit in with others in Fingerbone clashes with Sylvie's unorthodox personality. In this way, Sylvie's arrival in Housekeeping definitely sparks the distinction between Ruth and Lucille. It is hard to say whether or not Ruth and Lucille would end up going their separate ways if Sylvie hadn't come into their lives, but when she does, it is inevitable for them to continue acting as a single person.

Split Halfway

One of the most striking aspects of The Bell Jar for me is how quickly Esther's paranoid behavior escalates. As I read through Chapter 9 of the novel, I thought of Esther as a character troubled by her circumstances and others' misogynist views, not as someone who would repeatedly attempt suicide and never fully be a part of society again. But the transition from Chapter 9 to Chapter 10 is a significant change of tone. Esther not only emphasizes the ideas of death and depression more, but her behavior rapidly shifts from relatively normal (as a successful college student who hangs out with friends) to very isolated, unhealthy, and dangerous.

Part of what makes Esther's spiral into mental illness seem so fast is the language Plath uses at the beginning of Chapter 10. Esther says on page 113, "A summer calm laid its soothing hand over everything, like death," she feels she "had nothing to look forward to" on page 117, and she references the idea of not recognizing herself a few times throughout Chapter 10, including on page 120 when she decides she would create a disguise for herself named Elaine. Though Esther often has negative views on things in Chapters 1-9, much of her discomfort is related to her environment. While she criticizes Buddy Willard's behavior and describes the awkwardness of being wth Lenny and Doreen near the beginning of The Bell Jar, I think Chapter 10 marks a point in the novel when Esther directs her concerns, hatred, and discomfort more toward herself. Her escalation into serious mental illness comes from how she can no longer deal with problems she sees around her, and begins to see any criticism she has with others as a flaw with herself. The first nine chapters of the book act as a way to build up some of the qualms Esther has with her surroundings--from her first view of the rough sexuality between Doreen and Lenny, to the scene when Marco acts as a "woman-hater"--and the rest of the book is how Esther internalizes such issues.

An example of how Esther can no longer cope with problems later in the book is the fact that she stops bathing. In Chapter 2, Esther says, "There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them." She uses baths as a way to both physically and mentally cleanse herself of any disgusting, uncomfortable situation she has just been in. Yet several chapters later, Esther hasn't bathed in weeks, separated from what she saw as the universal way to contemplate problems and feel better. I think this is one reason why the second half of the book felt very disjointed from the first half to me, and possibly why many people in our class find it harder to relate to Esther by the end of the book than at the beginning: instead of simply seeing problems with things on a large scale (e.g., how American women were often treated in the 1950s), Esther feels that she is unusual for noticing such issues and abuses herself for them.

Power Struggles in The Bell Jar

During a class discussion about The Bell Jar the other day, we talked about what could be wrong with Esther Greenwood and why she feels negatively about a lot of things. I think much of what Esther dislikes about Buddy Willard is the idea that women don't have much power in marriage or medicine. Esther is bothered by Buddy's comment in Chapter 5 that Esther's poems are nothing but pieces of dust that won't matter in the long run. She gets the sense that Buddy doesn't care about what she has to say and that she won't be able to do what she loves--writing poetry--if they get married.

Another section of the novel that contributes to Esther's feelings that women have very little power or control over their lives is when she and Buddy witness a child birth. Mrs. Tomolillo, the woman having the baby, is very passive throughout the scene. She is put in the hands of a male medical student who has never delivered a baby before and fears he will drop the baby. Esther's description of this event associates doctors and medical students, who have never had babies themselves, with incompetence and apathy toward patients. On page 66, Plath writes:

"I thought it sounded just like the sort of drug a man would invent. Here was a woman in terrible pain, obviously feeling every bit of it or she wouldn't groan like that, and she would go straight home and start another baby, because the drug would make her forget how bad the pain had been, when all the time, in some secret part of her, that long, blind, doorless and windowless corridor of pain was waiting to open up and shut her in again."

Esther is uncomfortable with how the baby is delivered because the doctors seem to treat Mrs. Tomolillo in a way that limits her choices as a patient so that they don't have to more thoroughly interact with her. An interesting parallel to this scene is to Esther's other observations about men and sexuality. From both her own experiences and what she has seen occur with Doreen and Lenny, Esther is under the impression that women are entirely under the control of men. Toward the beginning of Chapter 2, Doreen says she wants Esther to stay with her at Lenny's apartment, alluding to the fact that Doreen would be pretty helpless if Lenny tried anything on her.

Similarly in Chapter 9, Esther's date with Marco bolsters her feeling that women are relatively powerless when interacting with men, and she is deeply bothered by that. She says Marco is an "invulnerable woman-hater," and the language she uses to describe the scene ("I didn't know where I was," and "the ground soared and struck me with a soft shock") add to the idea that Esther is powerless against Marco's manipulating physical strength.

These parts of The Bell Jar make me think that one of Esther's primary issues with others is that women lack control when it comes to both sex and child birth. She has witnessed numerous men who abuse and take advantage of women sexually, and her presence at the hospital during Mrs. Tomolillo's child birth rounds out the sense that women don't have much say in anything sex-/pregnancy-related. It will be interesting to see more examples of this in the upcoming chapters of the book and how Esther is affected by them; it already looks like these feelings have played a role in Esther's disgust with Buddy and their relationship, so there are a number of ways this theme could influence Esther's decisions later on in the novel.

Holden's Problems: Impossible to Solve

I think one of the primary issues Holden Caulfield of The Catcher in the Rye has with growing up is that he can't do anything about it. There is a sense that what Holden wants to preserve--life, childhood, innocence, and happiness--will someday disappear, and it appears to Holden that he is the only one who wants to reverse the deterioration he sees around him.

Holden analyzes things very closely, which can make a lot of his views of things negative. Even being a lawyer (which Holden thinks could be rewarding by freeing innocent people) begins to seem fake as he imagines lawyers who have the job just for the social status and wealth. By visualizing how situations could turn sour or impure, Holden is completely turned away from much of what the future has to offer.

What adds to Holden's feelings that it is impossible for the future to get better is that he doesn't come up with any solutions to such problems. He finds issues in every area in life because he thinks anything could be made worse by people's phoniness or malicious intentions, yet doesn't propose change explicitly and doesn't exactly say what he would rather have. I think that is because Holden doesn't know how things could be completely improved; since even an apparently good, helpful job in law could be sullied by a person's greed, Holden sees that he has little control over if the world becomes a better place or not.

Holden's uneasiness with the fragility of life contributes to how he feels many problems are inevitable or impossible to fix. He understandably thinks his brother Allie's death is unfair, and that feeling is rooted in the fact that Allie's death was out of his control. According to Holden, growing up is not only a loss of the happy, carefree attitude many children have in exchange for a greedy, phony lifestyle many adults have. He also sees it as a symbol of not being able to avoid death, and I think that is why he has such a problem with adulthood throughout The Catcher in the Rye.

Stephen as a Passive Character

Stephen Dedalus' passive nature can be seen throughout A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. When Stephen is a young boy at Clongowes, he is on the outside of other students' conversations, singled out as younger and more naïve than the other boys. As early as Chapter I, we get an idea that Stephen is usually apart from the crowd. On page four, Joyce describes Stephen as "on the fringe of his line, out of sight of his prefect, out of the reach of the rude feet, feigning to run now and then," during a rugby match with his classmates. In addition to often being alone and physically distant from the other boys, Stephen lets others do most of the talking when he is at school, as well as when he is at home. The Dedalus family Christmas in Chapter I is further evidence of Stephen's position as separate from others. At the Christmas dinner, Stephen fits in with neither the adults nor the kids. It is his first year sitting at the adults' dinner table, so he isn't with the other children, but he doesn't fit in with the adults either. As his father and Dante are arguing about religion and politics during their meal, Stephen adds little to the conversation and spends his time thinking about other things.

Later scenes in the book show Stephen's contemplative, passive personality too. Toward the end of Chapter II, Stephen wants to be encountered by his idea of Mercedes, and wanders around neighborhoods evidently hoping a prostitute approaches him. During the scene when Stephen is in the room with the prostitute, Joyce's choice of words illustrates Stephen's passive role and emphasizes the idea that an external force is controlling Stephen's actions. While the prostitute is doing most of the moving and talking in this scene, Stephen wants to be held and "his lips would not bend to kiss her." The way Joyce describes Stephen here is reminiscent of Stephen's younger days when he does not interact much with others, and it introduces the idea that an outside force may be what influences Stephen's actions.

This theme that some uncontrollable, external force affects Stephen's behavior continues into the last chapter of the novel. Though it appears that Stephen is more directly deciding his fate in Chapter V than he was in Chapter II, there is still a sense that he has a special calling to fulfill. Stephen's choice to leave Ireland may seem to be a decision made solely by Stephen, but I see it as more of a way for him to live up to his vocation that the novel works toward. Stephen's epiphany about art at the end of Chapter IV is entirely out of his control, and Joyce depicts the scene in a way that shows Stephen's passivity:

"His heart trembled; his breath came faster and a wild spirit passed over his limbs as though he were soaring sunward. His heart trembled in an ecstasy of fear and his soul was in flight. His soul was soaring in an air beyond the world and the body he knew was purified in a breath and delivered of incertitude and made radiant and commingled with the element of the spirit."

I see this moment in Stephen's life, in addition to the time in the next chapter when Stephen tells Cranly he wants to leave Ireland, as Stephen simply going along with what his soul is set out to do. Stephen accepting his vocation as an artist is a culminating point of the novel because moments illustrating his passive behavior around his classmates, family, and women have hinted at the fact that Stephen likes waiting for things to act upon him.

Shifts in Tone Between Chapters

One aspect of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man that we have discussed in class is the way James Joyce organizes the book: chapters often end when Stephen feels excited, powerful, and independent, and new chapters begin with unexciting scenes that contrast with the end of the chapter before. A significant example of this is between the end of Chapter I and the beginning of Chapter II, when Joyce deliberately builds up the final scene of Chapter I to be a climax of the events that have occurred up to that point. While describing Stephen's conversation with the rector and the following moments when he is with the other schoolboys, Joyce repeats the words "faster" and "quicker" to emphasize the rush Stephen gets from question Father Dolan's authority and being celebrated by his classmates. Joyce also includes details like how Stephen bumps into the door on the way out of the rector's office, highlighting the idea that Stephen finds his visit with the rector so important that he focuses on little else. The especially dramatic part of the chapter when the other boys hoist Stephen on their shoulders and repeatedly yell "Hurroo!" adds to the fast-paced, adrenaline-filled emotions Stephen has as well.

In our class discussions, we have speculated whether or not the extreme mood shifts between chapters are meant to undermine Stephen's feelings of independence or epiphany. Chapter II begins with an unglamorous description of Uncle Charles' terrible tobacco, which gives a starkly different vibe from the three-cheers-for-Conmee scene at the end of the previous chapter. Not only is the content less exhilarating, but the language is much more earthly than the sentences near the end of Chapter I. The "reeking outhouse" and "villainous awful tobacco" described at the start of Chapter II are the complete opposite of the happy friends throwing their caps and "smell of evening in the air" Stephen encounters just a page earlier.

Despite the clear shifts in subject and tone across the first two chapters, I don't see the less pleasant scenes of the book as diminishing Stephen's satisfaction at other points. For me, the fact that intense scenes are followed by calmer, less ideal language may even accentuate Stephen's moments of glory. I like Joyce's style of framing the most climactic points in Stephen's life with some of the least exciting scenes because I think it accurately represents real-life scenarios. I find that both Stephen's experiences and my own memories can be described as a few major events that stand out from the duller moments surrounding them. So the dramatic shifts in tone are not just there to weaken Stephen's highest points; they exist to set the most exciting moments apart from everything else and to give glimpses of what Stephen's life is like in the time between the spread-out, climactic moments.

Thoughts About the Definition of Coming of Age

For me, coming of age means taking part in what you want to do and what you are capable of. By doing the things in life you can do and like to do, you become more like an independent, powerful adult. Coming of age involves a certain amount of experience: enough to realize what you can or can't do, and enough experience to tell what you like and dislike. Coming of age means to ameliorate in some sense, at least as far as discovering through experience the things that suit you and taking charge to do those things. In this way, coming of age is often an ongoing process of gaining a purpose in life, and can't necessarily be pinpointed to a single event. Even late in life, people keep finding things they can do and doing those things, so coming of age never really ends.

I understand coming of age as mostly a mental shift or process, but physical change can play a role in becoming an adult too. Both physical maturation and deterioration can affect coming of age because they both show the things you are capable of. Getting stronger and focusing on physical growth may allow you to gain experience (which is central to coming of age) by conquering physical obstacles. But becoming physically weaker or sick does not act as an anti-coming-of-age; to the contrary, losing physical strength can spur your mental maturation by showing emotional strength. By overcoming struggles related to health or the body, you develop some of the personal responsibility and willpower needed to act as an adult.

Another key aspect of coming of age is being proud of yourself, or being able to vouch for your actions. What sets many children apart from adults is a clear motivation (or lack thereof) behind their actions; while kids may do things impulsively or not be able to explain themselves, adults should be able to show why they have made various decisions. To come of age not only means finding what you are capable of doing and doing those things, but also being able to justify your actions. I think when it comes to growing up, someone who has a wide range of experiences and feels accomplished from what they have done may be more mature than someone who is not fulfilling their potential. It will be interesting to notice how characters in the novels we read this semester fit into my own ideas about coming of age. I look forward to seeing how characters develop their ideas of what they want to do and what they are capable of doing in life, along with how they grow to feel accomplished from the things they have done.