Week 11 Blog, Faulkner Continued

CRITICAL: How do you understand Faulkner’s extraordinary statement in his Nobel Prize speech “the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself … alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat” ?

William Faulkner exposes the danger of many writers; the ‘lust’ of it, rather than the love of writing. The essential notion that Faulker puts forward in his Nobel Prize speech is the immortality of the human condition. This can be evidenced today: the long lasting classics that feature in the classroom, or on the bookshelf in your home library, are the one’s that innately capture what is is to be human. Humanity is not circumstantial. It is not dependent on external events, monitory value or commodity. It is the inner self. It is love, feeling and emotion. It is pain, hardship and guilt. Faulker acknowledges this drift, the loss of connection to the soul. Worldly devastation and preoccupation has society fearing for the world, rather than the self. He states “There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I be blown up?” 

There is an admirable statement within Faulkner’s Nobel Prize speech that highlights the writer’s ability to manipulate the emotions of the reader:

‘The poet’s, the writer’s, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.’

Faulkner acknowledges the power of writing. To write about emotion is to teach emotion, to remind the reader of the importance, perhaps even the existence of emotion. To remind them the eternal power of the human. For, as Faulkner says, the human is immortal.


Week 11, Peer Review

This was a great blog post. I admire the thought gone into the analysis of Emerson’s metaphor of the transparent eyeball. Your link to modern society gave me insight into my own life and the way we live. We should take aboard Emerson’s philosophy in our lives today. We need to, as you say Emerson believes, immerse ourselves and appreciate nature.


Link to blogpost:


Peer Review, Week 10

Daniel, a great blog post! I admire the time taken to ensure each line was similar in syllable count and rhythmic pattern. I like how you highlight the dangers of each road, particularly in the concluding line “For either choice made, I shall be damned.” I think the first line needs some consideration “Two roads diverged in a yellow road.” Another word for road, perhaps, “Two paths’?

Otherwise, a good poem!

Link to blog post: https://ddavid1818.wordpress.com/2017/09/26/literature-journal-blog-6-4/comment-page-1/#comment-100

Week 10, Creative

CREATIVE: Using any one of Faulkner’s 15 character voices as a guide, create a paragraph in the voice of a character totally different to yourself. Think about people you might have overheard on the train or bus or someone you might have seen randomly on a street corner. Invent their life, their consciousness in a paragraph. Who knows it might become the start of a larger work!


Note: This is insipired from an occurrence that happened on a Wednesday morning on my way into university. 


Wednesday Morning

“Tickets! Checking tickets. Get your Opal and concession cards ready, please!”

The transit officer belched from the back of the carriage, with much more authority than necessary. You’re not a cop mate, relax. The girl in front of me reacted instantaneously; Opal with according concession card at the ready. Goody-goody, that one is. People’s sleep are disrupted as they rummage through wallets, fiddle with their head phones, have mini panic attacks in fear of the $200 fine they’ll receive if they can’t produce this paramount piece of plastic that proves you paid your $4.50 fare.

“Hey mate, can I see your Opal card?” There were two officers who stood over me, utilising their superior standing position over the seated passengers as a power trip. One stood behind, silent, but I feel he washarsh.

“Sorry, I don’t have it. I lost my wallet last night and it was in there.”

“What’s your name?”

“Alex. Alex Debney.”

“You know its a crime to provide a false identity.”

“That’s my name.”

“Any proof of identification?”

“Nah mate, I told you, I lost my wallet.”

The officer was stumped. He paused, then continued to read the laws and regulations regarding Opal cards.

“What station are you getting off at?”


“Alright, we’ll meet you at Granville and discuss this further.”

They left the carriage. I called dad.

“Hey Cameron, why are you bloody calling me this early? What have you bloody done now?”

“Didn’t tap on this morning for the train, so didn’t give ‘em my Opal card. They said they’re going to fine me at Granville.”

“You can’t afford any more fines! You can’t get involved with the jail anymore, mate! Anything else, you’re out. Can’t take it anymore, mate. I’m sick of this.”

His voice was becoming raised and I could see the girl in front of me trying to turn to listen. Bloody goody-goody. Mind your own damn business.

Over the speaker, I could hear the stops being listed: Next station Fairfield, then Yennora, Guildford, Merrylands, Granville…

They can’t take me back to jail. It’s a fine, but I can’t afford the fine. With my record, they’d probably think it’s easier just to shove me away. Why couldn’t they let a poor bloke go? He lost his wallet, probably had to cancel his cards, apply for a new license, risk identify theft and a potential shopping spree from whoever found his cards, draining his bank account. Poor bloke and they couldn’t let him off for not having his Opal card? Without which how is he going to get to work? No paper tickets. Doesn’t have a license to drive. I thought it was a pretty damn good lie, to be honest.

I could see the transit officers in the carriage after us through the windows. As the doors opened on Fairfield station, the officers didn’t take notice. Their minds were on fining the next poor bloke. I quickly got up, and just before the doors closed, bolted through.

What am I going to do in bloody Fairfield?

Peer Review, Week 9

Natalie, I enjoyed your confronting address to Mr. Baldwin. your acknowledgement of the juxtaposition between inward and outward feeling was great! Thoroughly enjoyed your thoughts on the piece. Having read this piece myself as well, I found it compelling in its confrontational elements. I feel he captured the essence of societal conformation and the injustice faced by ‘black’ society. Just a correction: should be ‘your’ not ‘you’re’ in the first paragraph.

Link to post: https://natalie4820.wordpress.com/2017/09/13/dear-mr-baldwin/

Week 9 Blog, Creative

5/ Try to write either a William Carlos Williams, an Ezra Pound or an e.e.cummings poem using your own subject matter but sticking to their language and form. As a starting point you might try either “The Red Wheelbarrow” (309), or “In a Station of the Metro” (318) or e.e.cummings “in Just-” (638))

Ezra Pound’s “In a Station of the Metro”, reads:

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;

Petals on a wet, black bough.

Short in length, powerful in language, I am to do the same by adopting the minimalist imagism style. I wanted to take an evening of going to dinner, my ideal restaurant scene, and depict it by capturing the elements that make it so idyllic.

“An Ideal Evening”

Sand hour-glass running slowly, the conversation dances to the flames;

Auburn night, smooth taste, cadence turning, slow.

Week 8 Blog

1/ Write a paragraph that says succinctly which of the two Roberts you preferred and for what reasons.


Whilst both Robert Frost and Robert Lowell are incredible writers, with incredible talents for the construction of poetry, it is Robert Frost who I gravitate more heavily towards. Frost’s writing is extremely entertaining to read, particularly owing to the song-like rhythmic effect of his poems, that mimic the pattern of music. Frost adopts an unpretentious, quotidian style with his approachable word choice, which encourages a broad spectrum of readers. In his work, whilst deceptively simple, he is extremely ambiguous, adding to the cleverness of his construction. Often, he alludes to the ineffable: the things beyond descriptions, the indescribable. It is his description of the ineffable, that transports readers to the edge of silence; a spiritual place, not God, but a place of renewed understanding, that brings an alternate interpretation of reality. It is Frost’s attempt to discover something nourishing and nurturing within reality. The greatness of Frost, is his ability to address both the ineffable, something beyond words, and his ability to capture the everyday human experience, extraordinarily. In this way Frost celebrates the ordinary life and celebrates the extraordinary notion of what life and living is. His appreciation of the (some would call) ‘mundane’, things, life, nature, squabbles amongst friends and family, is what aligns his work with the Transcendentalists. Something poignant, that captured my interest in Frost whole-heartedly, was his belief that “A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom…it runs a course of lucky events, and ends in a clarification of life.” “The Figure a Poem Makes” (250-251). This sentiment runs true for so many of the poems I have enjoyed and is the reason I love the form so much. Ambiguous in its nature, poems bestow a rhyming quality that enchants you whilst you read, whilst adopting your own, personalised meaning to the poem. Therefore, upon reading, you are entertained. Upon leaving, you have circumnavigated your brain, leaving with a greater clarification of your own life. Poetry allows for individual interpretation, and thus, gives everyone opportunity to gain clarity within their own lives.

It is for the above reasons, that I prefer the work of Robert Frost.

Image from: https://williambertrand.fr/robert-frost-poems/

Week 7 Peer Review – Yasmin

Yasmin, I was extremely captivated by this piece! There were so many literary techniques within it, from alliteration, the use of the dash, complex sentence, etc, that all worked so well in creating this work (whether intentional or not. I like the notion you put forward of a ‘society that only makes it age in all ways.’ This is definitely true, and further the point that ‘in the woods is perpetual youth.’ Good work,


Link to blog post: https://yasminandliterature.wordpress.com/2017/08/20/blog-2-america-writing/

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