Mid-term Modernism Project from 11th grade english. I experimented with improvisational writing. I went to starbucks with my laptop and wrote. I eventually took an excerpt and polished it into a short story. I’ve attached the rest of my stream of consciousness.
Reflections
The man and the octopus sit at the table. The room is dark. Completely black. No windows. Cold. Not enough to shiver, but enough to want to. Clang. Metal on wood. Calm, silent movements by the octopus. Scratch, flicker, light! A single match. Illuminated face of the octopus shows no eyeballs. Just a round pale head with a slit of a mouth. White octopi are rare. The ends of 3 tentacles surround the tip of the candle as a fourth slowly but deliberately lowers the match, as the head remains erect and rigid, staring forward with no eyes. Only the outline of a small bunch of tentacle ends is seen as the match is allowed to excite the wick. All four tentacles are calmly brought back behind the the table, taking the still lit match with it, allowing the neck to be seen for just a second. A short, thin stub of a neck. The man ponders how it can hold up the head.
Ticking of a clock. The head is illuminated from below by the candle light, such that the top fades into darkness. The flickering light makes the form of the octopus’ head appear to jiggle. The man notices the shininess of the octopus’ mucus-coated exterior. Is it getting colder in here? Blink. Clang. The candle is knocked over. A lone tentacle is visible in the light, which dims, but then comes back. Larger. The table is ignited. Crackle of a more enthusiastic fire. The flickering light illuminates more of the octopus. The whole head is visible, sill in the same erect position with the unmoving slit. All eight tentacles can be seen in the violent flickering light. They emerge directly from the neck- no body. The man ponders an anatomical explanation for the octopus’ apparent lack of vital organs.
The fire is larger. A bucket of water emerges from beneath the table, held by two tentacles. The octopus slowly, calmly, turns the bucket above the table, releasing the liquid relief. Again, the head shows no motion. Completely erect. Eyeless forward stare. The fire climbs up the stream of water, igniting the bucket. The bucket is released and the tentacles, after an ever so slight jerk of apparent fear, are slowy lowered beneath the table. A minute shiver of the head. So minute it didn’t even happen. Completely still again now. Perhaps even more still, theres determination.
The fire leaps off of the table and engulfs the man. With the last few seconds of hist life, he turns and sees a window. Was that there before? The landscape is beautiful. A forever stretching flatland of dry dirt, fading into fog, with a sole tree off in the distance. A tear hits the floor as the last breath is released.
The octopus’s head nods forward some, and the slit relaxes into a hole as an enormous sigh is released. The top of the head sags forward, making a slight crease just above where the eyes might have been if they existed. The octopus remains at the table as the fire slowly burns out and the same initial silence is again achieved, only this time louder. Another sigh is released as the octpus slouches up to a “standing†position and moves away from the table, away from the carcass. The lowered head bobs up and down as the tentacles drag along the floor . A tentacle wraps around the handle. The door is opened. Light floods the room. The door handle reflects the light. The octopus’ mucus-covered exterior reflects the light. The walls are mirrors. The words are mirrors.
ANALYSIS
it’s important to note that this was done after writing the story. Some of these ideas emerged during writing, some during revision, few possibly subconsciously before writing.
mirrors
climax of story and overall message:
you just read all that story
i wrote it
but i didn’t TELL you anything
i didn’t make you BELIEVE anything
you just found interpretations inside yourself
almost demotes the entire story
THESIS: our class discussions have shown that in some modernist writing, we are forced to reflect on ourselves and find our own values, rather being spoonfed ideas by the author
ie: imposition of our own values onto interpretations of Prufrock
possible subconscious reasons for other elements:
initial cold
idea of finding purpose (prufrock, wasteland)
the narrator occasionally uses the man’s “voice”
octopus
very concerned with how the man sees him
cannot show weakness
straining to keep head erect and mouth in slit shape
eyes
show too many emotions
lack of eyes and candle is like kurtz’s painting in heart of darkness
represents imperialism (heart of darkness)
apparent good intentions (candle)
vast, destructive, expansion of ideas (burning table)
lack of sympathy for people (man)
presents self as superior, strong (erect head)
thin neck, big head
all bark, no bite
no body- no emotions, no sympathy, no heart
man
onlooker, uninvolved (prufrock, araby, heart of darkness)
killed before much is known about him
shows artist’s lack of sympathy for audience (killing roach in metamorphosis)
shows violence and uncaring of octopus
stream of consciousness
